MMStfl 


HE  HELD  UP  THE  FLOWERS 
(Page  37.) 


THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

OF  THE  SAN  COULEE 


H  Stors  for  ©iris 


MRS.  CARRIE   L.  MARSHALL 

Author  of  "Two  Wyoming  Girls,"  Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  IDA  WAUGH 


THE   PENN  PUBLISHING   COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA  MDCCCXCIX 


COPYRIGHT   1897   BY  THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I  WE  BUY  A  SHEEP  RANCH 7 

II  FAREWELL  TO  ELM  WOOD 22 

III  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS  IN  A  PRAIRIE  SCHOONER  ...  39 

IV  A  PERILOUS  RIDE 57 

V  OUR  NEW  HOME 71 

VI  WHY  MR.  SEATON  SOLD  THE  RANCH 84 

VII  A  CHANGE  OF  OPINION 101 

VIII  A    VISIT   FROM   THE   MEXICAN   SHEPHERDS       ....  112 

IX  INEXPERIENCED  HERDERS 126 

X  A  STAMPEDED  FLOCK 142 

XI  THE  WHIP-POOR-WILLS 159 

XII  ROUNDING  UP  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES 174 

XIII  ON  THE  PLAINS 189 

XIV  AN  ODD  ACQUAINTANCE 203 

XV  A  WILD  RIDE 215 

5 


6  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XVI  A  FRIKND  IN  NEED 231 

XVII  THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP 246 

XVIII  NEWS  FROM  HOME 260 

XIX  A  SECOND  STAMPEDE 270 

XX  A  SERIOUS  ACCIDENT 280 

XXI  AMONG  THE  SNOW  WRAITHS 293 

XXII  MR.  SEATON  is  CORNERED 309 


THE  GIRL  RANCHERS  OF  THE  SAN 
COULEE 

CHAPTER  1 

WE   BUY   A   SHEEP   RANCH 

"THERE  must  be  a  change  made,  and  at  once!" 
exclaimed  Aunt  Matilda  firmly.  She  was  rock- 
ing herself  back  and  forth,  as  was  her  wont 
when  excited,  in  the  little  cane-seated  sewing 
chair  that  had  been  mother's,  and  the  soles  of 
her  slippers  struck  the  carpet  with  a  soft  thud 
at  every  forward  swing. 

Father,  who  was  just  recovering  from  one  of 
the  frequent  coughing  fits  that  left  him  weak 
and  exhausted,  found  breath  to  murmur : 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  suppose  so.  No  doubt  you  are 
right,  Matilda,"  but  his  manner  was  so  absent 
that  Aunt  Matilda  immediately  returned  to  the 
charge  with  added  emphasis : 

7 


8  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  There  must  be  a  radical  change,  Hugh  ;  I 
wish  that  you  realized  it  more  than  you  appear 
to." 

"  Well,  Matilda,  perhaps  I  do  realize  it ; 
what  then  ?"  father  returned,  settling  back  in 
his  own  chair  and  giving  up  the  intention  that 
he  had  evidently  entertained  of  slipping  into 
the  study,  the  half-open  door  of  which  revealed 
a  table  littered  with  an  alluring  array  of  proof 
sheets.  "  But  what  good  does  that  do,  since  we 
have  no  money  for  traveling  purposes  ?  If  that 
New  York  firm  had  bought  the  patent  for  my 
invention,  as  they  more  than  half  promised  to 
do,  there  would  be  no  occasion  for  saying  that, 
but  they  didn't  buy  it,  and  I  must  wait  until  I 
can  dispose  of  the  patent  for  making  wood  in- 
combustible. The  invention  for  building  houses 
of  earthenware  is  the  one  that  has  a  fortune  in 
it.  The  proof  sheets  of  my  book  on  the  subject 
came  by  this  morning's  mail,"  he  glanced  again 
at  the  study  table,  "  but  that  will  take  time  to 
work  up,  the  other  will  do  to  realize  on  for 
ready  cash." 


WE   BUY   A   SHEEP   RANCH  9 

Our  big,  bare,  old-fashioned  house  that  father 
had  inherited  from  his  father  before  him  was 
littered  from  cellar  to  attic  with  the  curious  re- 
sults of  father's  inventive  genius.  There  was 
not  one  of  these  that  he  had  not  counted  confi- 
dently upon  to  procure  plenty  of  ready  money. 
Mother,  who  died  when  Vevie  was  a  tiny  baby, 
was  a  dainty,  impatient  little  creature,  prone  to 
look  around  on  the  household  shabbiness,  daily 
growing  more  pronounced,  and  bursting  into 
tears  whenever  father  spoke  of  getting  the 
money  that  was  so  sadly  needed,  through  some 
of  his  inventions.  But  Aunt  Matilda  was  of 
different  stuff;  she  would  have  gone  to  the 
stake  and  suffered  slow  torment  before  she 
would  have  allowed  her  sensitive,  ailing  brother 
to  suspect  for  an  instant  that  she  doubted  the 
practicability  of  anything  that  he  attempted. 
She  had  lived  with  us  since  mother's  death, 
worked  for  us,  made  the  most  of  our  few  suc- 
cesses, carried  our  burdens  on  her  shoulders 
and  our  sorrows  in  her  loyal  heart.  She  would 
have  gone  on  in  the  same  way  until  her  tireless 


10  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

feet  came  to  a  final  halt  at  the  grave  had  it  not 
been  for  the  report  that  the  great  doctor  whom 
she  had  induced  father  to  consult,  gave  upon  his 
case ;  then  she  was  aroused  to  activity  in  a  new 
direction.  Tender  as  she  was  of  father's  feel- 
ings, she  yet  gave  him  no  peace  upon  this  sub- 
ject, no  opportunity  to  subside  into  his  usual 
absent-minded,  speculative  content.  She  prod- 
ded him  continually  with  merciless  little  re- 
minders of  what  the  doctor  had  said,  until, 
placidly  indifferent  as  he  was  when  the  topic 
under  discussion  happened  to  be  his  own  health, 
she  did  at  last  succeed  in  securing  his  attention, 
and  that  was  half  the  battle,  for  his  mind 
worked  with  unusual  clearness  and  effectiveness 
when  his  interest  was  once  enlisted. 

Aunt  Matilda  made  no  reply  to  his  remark 
about  the  incombustible  wood  invention,  but  re- 
peated her  previous  declaration. 

"  There's  got  to  be  a  change,  Hugh ;  I  shall 
not  rest  day  or  night  until  it  is  accomplished." 

Father  crossed  his  legs,  clasped  his  long,  thin 
hands  over  one  knee,  and  prepared  to  argue  the 


WE   BUY    A   SHEEP   RANCH  11 

case.  The  cough  that  had  made  an  appeal  to 
the  doctor  necessary  stopped  him  for  a  moment, 
then  he  began  persuasively  : 

"  My  dear  sister,  we  must  all  die  sooner  or 
later;  it  would  seem  that  in  my  case — if  the 
doctor  is  right,  and  he  may  not  be — it  will  be  a 
little  sooner  than — " 

"  There  !  That's  enough !"  Aunt  Matilda  ex- 
claimed brusquely.  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  any 
more  talk  of  that  sort ;  and  it's  unkind  in  you  to 
say  such  things,  Hugh,  when  you  know  so  well 
that  there  is  a  means  of  restoring  your  health, 
which  will  never  be  restored  until  that  means  is 
taken." 

Father  sighed.  "Granted,  Matilda,  that  I 
am  worth  all  the  trouble  that  you  are  disposed 
to  take  in  my  behalf.  I  tell  you,  honestly, 
that  I  cannot  go  to  the  mountains  alone ;  my 
last  estate  would  then  be  worse  than  my  first, 
for  I  should  die  of  homesickness,  and  if  I 
must  choose  between  two  evils  I  greatly  pre- 
fer to  die  comfortably  of  consumption  here  at 
home,  than  away  off  somewhere  alone  among 


12  THE  GIRL  RANCHERS 

strangers.  Here,  I  have  you  and  the  children 
about  me." 

At  that  Florence,  who  had  been  sitting  silent 
in  the  corner,  biting  her  lips  and  winking  back 
her  tears,  sprang  to  his  side,  threw  her  arms 
around  his  neck,  and  sobbed,  "  I  don't  want  you 
to  die  at  all,  anywhere,  papa !" 

Aunt  Matilda  stamped  her  foot.  "  Florence, 
I  am  ashamed  of  you !  Have  you  no  self-con- 
trol ?  Look  at  Elsie !" 

Here  let  me  say  that  I  who  am  writing  this 
narrative,  am  Elsie.  At  the  time  Aunt  Matilda 
spoke  I  was  sitting  very  erect,  gazing  steadily 
out  of  the  window  and  away  from  father,  con- 
scious that  the  thread  of  my  sorely  tried  en- 
durance might  snap  at  any  moment,  and  in  fear 
lest  Aunt  Matilda  might  unwittingly  give  the 
final  disastrous  tug  that  should  snap  it.  "  Leave 
me  out  of  the  question,  if  you  please,"  I  said 
stiffly.  Aunt  Matilda  glanced  at  me,  dashed 
the  back  of  her  hand  across  her  eyes — she  would 
have  disdained  to  make  use  of  a  handkerchief  at 
such  a  juncture — and  replied  huskily: 


WE   BUY   A   SHEEP   RANCH  13 

"  Well,  I  will.  Sit  down,  Florence,  you  are 
very  inconsiderate." 

"  Elsie  is  a  stoic,"  father  said,  his  kind,  bright 
eyes  twinkling.  "  You  see,  Mattie,  I've  got  so 
little  stamina  that  I  couldn't  get  along  without 
the  tonic  that  such  natures  as  your  own  and 
Elsie's  furnish  me." 

"  You  shall  have  that  tonic,  Hugh ;  we  will 
all  go  with  you." 

"  How,  for  instance  ?" 

"  Well,  there's  this  place  and  my  farm." 

"  Yes ;  if  either  could  be  set  down  in  the 
midst  of  some  delightful  mountain  valley 
one  could  ask  for  nothing  more;  but,  unfor- 
tunately, they  are  here  and  the  valley  is 
there." 

"  Their  proceeds  might  easily  be  put  there," 
returned  Aunt  Matilda,  significantly. 

"  You  mean  that  we  shall  sell  out  ?  Oh,  I 
don't  know.  It  would  be  hard  to  part  with  the 
old  place,  or  " — his  voice  sank  very  low — "  it 
would  have  been  hard  before  Donald  went  away. 
There's  a — a — sense  of  desolation  about  it  now 


14  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

that  I  never  seemed  to  feel  before ;  it's  getting 
shabby,  I  fancy." 

Florence  had  perched  herself  on  one  arm  of 
his  chair  and  he  had  an  arm  around  her ;  he 
pushed  her  aside  gently,  the  better  to  lean  for- 
ward and  scan  the  large  room  and  its  old-fash- 
ioned, carefully  mended  furniture;  its  ceiling 
where  the  broken  plastering  would  sag  in  the 
middle  in  spite  of  Aunt  Matilda's  various  and 
ingenious  experiments  with  tacks,  muslin,  and 
plentiful  paste  to  keep  it  in  place.  Then  his 
glance  wandered  out  through  the  window  to  the 
shabby  out-buildings,  the  weedy,  unkempt  lawn, 
and  the  crooked,  gnarled  old  orchard  trees  un- 
der which  Vevie  and  Calif,  the  greyhound,  were 
at  the  moment  playing.  "  It  is  deplorably  run 
down  ;  it  is  dilapidated,"  he  admitted,  sighing  ; 
"  but,"  brightening  up  suddenly,  "  we  needn't 
sell  on  that  account,  Mattie.  When  I  begin 
to  realize  on  some  of  my  inventions  we  can 
make  the  old  place  as  fine  as  you  please." 

"I  am  not  troubled  about  the  old  place, 
Hugh ;  it  does  very  well.  What  does  trouble 


WE   BUY    A   SHEEP    RANCH  15 

me  is  the  state  of  your  health ;  we  must  go  to 
the  mountains,  as  the  doctor  said.  We  must 
begin  to  look  about  at  once  for  some  investment, 
some  business,  in  a  desirable  locality  where  you 
can  regain  your  health  and  we  can  do  some- 
thing toward  gaining  our  living  at  the  same 
time." 

"  The  investment  idea  is  all  right,  Mattie,  but 
there  is  no  occasion  for  troubling  ourselves  as  to 
the  future.  I  feel  that  that  is  secure." 

He  was  thinking  of  his  inventions  again, 
and  I  knew  from  the  expression  on  her  face 
that  Aunt  Matilda  was  asking  herself  des- 
perately what  one  could  do  in  the  face  of  such 
persistent  hopefulness.  After  a  moment's 
silence  she  continued: 

"  Still,  Hugh,  I  should  feel  more  at  ease  if  I 
could  see  a  direct  way  of  making  money,  or  of 
making  our  living  as  we  go  along;  that  is  all  that 
I  want.  We — the  girls — need  the  training  that 
some  kind  of  business  responsibility  will  give ; 
even  farming.  You  know  that  all  women  are 
expected  to  have  a  business  training  nowadays." 


16  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  The  more  the  pity,"  responded  the  father, 
who,  like  his  house,  is  old-fashioned.  "  But,  of 
course,  you  are  right ;  you  always  are.  We'll 
start  an  exploring  party  for  the  mountains — on 
paper — with  as  little  delay  as  possible."  As  I 
said  before,  when  father's  interest  is  fairly 
aroused  he  is  energetic  enough,  and  now,  hav- 
ing decided,  or  having  allowed  Aunt  Matilda  to 
decide  for  him,  on  emigration,  he  set  himself 
industriously  to  work,  with  her  assistance,  to 
learn  what  he  could  of  the  West  and  the  oppor- 
tunities it  had  to  offer  new-comers. 

The  final  outcome  of  much  writing  back  and 
forth,  here  and  there,  was  the  purchase  of  a 
sheep  ranch  in  the  valley  of  the  San  Coulee, 
well  up  among  the  Wind  River  Mountains  in 
Montana.  The  ranch,  which  comprised  a  big 
slice  of  the  valley,  was  stocked  with  a  flock  of 
three  thousand  high  grade  sheep,  and  the  pur- 
chase included  corrals,  sheds,  water  privileges, 
winter  and  summer  range,  a  two  years  lease  of 
a  large  tract  of  school  land — whatever  that 
might  be — and  a  number  of  other  things  that  I 


WE    BUY    A    SHEEP    RANCH  17 

had  never  heard  of  before,  neither,  I  am  sure, 
had  any  of  the  others. 

Father  and  aunt  were  greatly  pleased. 

"  It  will  be  a  life  of  gentle  activity  for  us  all," 
father  said,  in  talking  over  the  purchase  after 
the  necessary  transfer  of  papers  and  the  pay- 
ment of  the  first  instalment  of  the  purchase- 
money,  which  we  were  to  pay  in  four  quarterly 
instalments,  or,  if  we  desired,  were  at  liberty  to 
make  full  payment  at  any  time  during  the  year. 
"  We  will  naturally  wish  to  look  pretty  closely 
after  our  flock,  but  the  real  hard  work  of  the 
ranch  will  be  done  by  the  Mexican  herders, 
who,  Mr.  Seaton  says,  may  be  hired  for  a  trifle 
and  are  perfectly  reliable." 

"  I  never  knew  much  about  any  sheep  except 
the  one  that  Mary  had — and  that  was  only  a 
lamb,"  Florence  remarked  cheerfully ;  "  but  I 
fancy  it  won't  be  much  work  to  keep  an  eye  on 
the  merinos." 

"  Sheep  are  such  gentle  things,  too,"  chimed 
in   Aunt  Matilda ;    "  I   remember,   don't    you, 
Hugh,  those  on  grandfather's  farm  ?" 
2 


18  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  Y — es,  yes,  I  do,  Matilda.  I  remember  that 
one  of  them  tossed  me  nearly  over  the  barn  one 
day.  I  was  stooping  down  inspecting  an  ant- 
hill in  the  barnyard  when  I  was  struck  by  some- 
thing back  of  me  with  such  force  that  I  seemed 
to  have  been  suddenly  fired  from  the  mouth  of 
a  cannon.  I  landed  upon  the  roof  of  a  low 
shed  in  front  of  me,  and  to  this  day  I  don't 
know  whether  I  was  tossed  up  there  or  scram- 
bled up  myself,  but  when  I  recovered  sufficient 
presence  of  mind  to  look  about  me,  there  I  was, 
and  there  below  me  was  old  Montague,  the  big 
merino  ram,  pawing  the  ground  with  one  foot 
and  entreating  me  to  come  down  and  give  him 
another  chance  at  me." 

"  Did  you  go  ?"  asked  Vevie,  with  interest. 

"  Not  that  day,  my  dear ;  I  had  had  enough." 

"  We  can  cull  out  any  ill-tempered  or  vicious 
sheep  from  our  flock,"  Aunt  Matilda  said,  with 
a  business-like  air.  "  I  feel  sure  that  we  will 
enjoy  giving  the  creatures  whatever  attention 
we  may  feel  necessary." 

I    am    always    the    one   who    produces   the 


WE    BUY    A   SHEEP    RANCH  19 

proverbial  wet  blanket  in  our  hopeful  family, 
so  now  I  ventured,  "  We  know  so  little  about 
the  business  it  may  be  quite  an  undertaking,  as 
much,  perhaps,  as  it  would  be  to  run  a  cattle 
ranch." 

Aunt  Matilda  looked  at  me  reproachfully. 
"  I  don't  know  how  you  can  think  that,  Elsie. 
I  should  be  terribly  afraid  to  attempt  the 
management  of  a  cattle  ranch.  But  there  is 
nothing  more  tractable,  more  easily  led  than  a 
sheep." 

Months  afterward,  in  the  light  of  bitter  ex- 
perience, I  recalled  and  revised  that  remark  of 
Aunt  Matilda's.  By  that  time  I  knew  there 
was  something  more  tractable,  more  easily  led 
than  a  sheep,  and  that  was  a  family  of  Eastern 
people  bent  upon  Western  achievements.  We 
had  purchased  the  ranch  on  the  San  Coulee 
after  due  investigation  into  its  title  by  a  lawyer 
in  Belmont,  the  town  nearest  the  valley.  The 
price  was  so  low  compared  with  that  of  other 
properties  of  the  kind  that  that  alone  should 
have  made  us  suspicious  of  something  wrong, 


20  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

but  it  did  not;  we  simply  counted  ourselves 
fortunate  in  discovering  Mr.  Seaton.  As  that 
gentleman  was  about  leaving  the  valley  he 
offered  to  sell  us  the  furnishings  of  the  ranch 
house  also  at  a  bargain,  and  the  offer  was  eagerly 
accepted.  Mr.  Seaton  further  offered  to  meet 
us  at  Carston,  the  railway  station  most  conve- 
nient to  San  Coulee,  but,  nevertheless,  nearly 
one  hundred  miles  distant  from  the  valley.  He 
was  to  pilot  us  to  the  ranch,  and  as  his  time  was 
limited  he  hinted  that  it  would  be  a  good  deal 
of  an  accommodation  to  him  if  we  could  manage 
to  come  out  soon.  Nothing  could  have  suited 
us  better,  but  a  sale  of  the  household  goods  that 
we  would  not  now  be  obliged  to  transport  was 
necessary  before  we  could  leave.  It  was  finally 
decided  to  dispose  of  them  at  public  auction,  and 
a  day  for  the  sale  was  set.  Father  grew  so  in- 
terested in  talking  of  the  far-off  sheep  ranch 
and  the  novel  experiences  awaiting  us  that  he 
really  seemed  to  be  already  on  the  high  road  to 
recovery.  I  said  to  him  one  day,  it  was  the 
day  before  the  sale,  I  remember,  "  You  seem  so 


WE   BUY   A    SHEEP   RANCH  21 

much  better,  father ;  just  the  thought  of  going 
to  the  mountains  has  helped  you." 

"  I  believe  it  has,  Elsie,  and  then,  do  yoq 
know,  there's  a  kind  of  clay  in  the  Wind  River 
region — I  read  it  in  the  Gazette  that  Seaton  sent 
— that  if  all  that's  claimed  for  it  is  true  may 
prove  to  be  the  very  thing  I've  been  looking 
for  these  twenty  years.  It's  fine,  soft,  non- 
porous,  lends  itself  readily  to  treatment.  It 
may  be  the  very  thing  for  hollow  brick.  If  the 
sheep  ranch  fails  there  may  be  a  fortune  in  that 
clay.  I  shall  be  deeply  interested  in  examining 
and  experimenting  with  it." 

Poor  father  !  It  was  for  our  sakes  that  he  so 
persistently  followed  what  seemed  the  will-o'- 
the-wisp  of  his  invention,  but  my  heart  sank  a 
little  as  I  realized  that  the  clay  banks  of  the 
Wind  River  range — if  he  could  get  to  them — 
would  be  likely  to  engage  a  greater  share  of  his 
attention  than  the  sheep  ranch  in  which  all  of 
our  own  fortune,  as  well  as  Aunt  Matilda's,  had 
been  invested. 


CHAPTER  II 

FAREWELL   TO    ELMWOOD 

THE  day  of  the  sale  came  and  went.  In 
addition  to  our  own  desire  to  have  the  business 
of  transplanting  our  home  over  with,  we  were 
anxious  to  gratify  Mr.  Seaton  by  detaining  him 
as  short  a  time  as  possible,  and  he  made  such  a 
point  of  meeting  us  that  it  seemed  he  would  not 
leave  the  valley  until  we  came.  We  th ought  ,it 
was  very  kind  of  him  then  to  take  so  much 
trouble  on  our  account ;  afterward  we  had  reason 
to  believe  that  he  had  a  purpose  in  wishing  to 
help  us  to  form  our  first  impressions  of  the  val- 
ley and  its  people,  for  these  impressions  might 
not  have  been  flattering  to  him  had  any  of  his 
neighbors  been  our  guide. 

The  day  after  the  sale  our  trunks  were  packed, 
our  tickets  purchased,  and  such  household  arti- 
cles as  we  had  decided  to  take  with  us,  includ- 
ing Florence's  organ,  were  already  shipped  and 
22 


FAREWELL   TO   ELMWOOD  23 

well  on  their  way,  but  there  were  still  a  number 
of  things  to  be  done  before  we  were  ready  to 
board  the  cars  at  four  o'clock  that  afternoon. 
Florence  had  put  off  a  decision  as  to  which  of 
her  numerous  oil  paintings  were  worthy  of 
being  taken  along  until  the  last  possible  mo- 
ment, and  now  she  was  in  the  front  room  pull- 
ing over  a  pile  of  canvases,  grumbling  discon- 
tentedly at  nearly  every  one.  While  I  was 
waiting  to  help  her  pack  those  she  might  settle 
upon  finally  I  stood  beside  the  uncurtained  win- 
dow, daring  for  the  first  time  in  many  weeks  to 
permit  myself  to  think  upon  Donald.  Donald 
was  the  only  child  of  father's  dearest  friend, 
Mr.  Arleigh.  When  he  was  twelve  years  old 
his  parents  both  died,  and  it  seemed  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  that  the  orphaned 
lad  should  come  to  us ;  he  had  no  near  relatives, 
no  place  that  seemed  so  much  like  home  to  him 
as  the  house  of  his  father's  friend,  who  had  no 
son. 

It  was  before  Vevie's  birth  that  he  became  a 
member  of  our  family,  when  Florence   and  I 


24  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

were  just  wee  girls.  The  little  property  that  he 
had  inherited  from  his  father  was  sold  and  the 
proceeds  put  in  the  bank,  to  remain  there  at  in- 
terest until  Donald  was  twenty-one.  He  was 
educated  at  father's  expense — well  educated — 
and  none  of  us  realized  how  little  father  could 
afford  to  spare  the  money  until  Donald  left  us, 
for  that  was  what  he  did.  It  was  a  terrible 
blow  to  father,  though  he  made  no  complaint. 
Donald  seemed  to  take  a  keen  interest  in  the 
pursuits  that  father  found  so  fascinating.  Ap- 
parently he  had  more  faith  in  the  incombustible 
wood  invention  and  the  scheme  for  making 
earthenware  houses  than  even  father  himself, 
and  it  was  because  he  so  sorely  missed  the  young 
man's  intelligent  sympathy  and  quick  under- 
standing that  he  failed  so  rapidly  after  Donald 
left.  We  all  knew  that  his  desertion  was  break- 
ing father's  heart,  but  none  of  us  said  so.  Ordi- 
nary matters  seldom  worried  him,  but  when 
Donald  disappeared  the  hurt  went  deep.  It 
transpired  also  that  Donald  had  drawn  from 
the  bank  every  cent  of  the  money  that  belonged 


FAREWELL   TO    ELMWOOD  25 

to  him.  He  had  done  worse — he  had  taken 
samples  and  models  of  all  father's  inventions, 
even  to  the  descriptive  letter  press  and  the  in- 
combustible formula  which  he  would  understand 
so  well  how  to  manipulate,  and  had  gone,  gone ! 
Father  never  uttered  a  word  of  complaint  against 
him,  and  Florence  and  I  dared  not  say  to  him 
that  we  thought  Donald  had  probably  seen  the 
value  of  his  inventions  and  stolen  them.  Youth 
is  apt  to  be  hard  on  youth. 

To  think,  then,  of  him  had  always  given  rise 
to  bitter  anger  and  grief,  at  least  with  Florence 
and  me,  but  never  at  any  time  did  it  have  this 
effect  upon  father  and  Aunt  Matilda,  who,  it 
seemed  to  me,  were  more  dazed  than  angered  by 
Donald's  desertion.  Now  that  we  were  going 
away,  if  he  ever  returned  it  would  be  to  an 
empty  house,  or  to  one  occupied  by  strangers. 
So  I  fell  to  thinking  more  kindly  of  our  foster 
brother. 

It  was  not  very  long  after  Donald's  departure 
that  Aunt  Matilda  induced  father  to  consult  a 
doctor  in  regard  to  his  health,  which  was  failing 


26  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

so  fast,  but  we  all  knew  that  Donald's  re-appear- 
ance, no  matter  what  explanation  he  might  give 
of  his  strange  conduct,  would  be  a  better  medi- 
cine for  poor  father  than  any  doctor's  stuff  or 
change  of  climate. 

I  was  aroused  from  the  study  of  this  sad 
puzzle  by  hearing  the  click  of  the  gate  latch.  I 
looked  out;  a  stately  female  figure  was  ad- 
vancing majestically  up  the  short  walk  from 
gate  to  doorway. 

"Florence,  Mrs.  Elliot  is  coming,"  I  said 
in  a  warning  voice. 

Florence,  who  had  been  on  her  knees  in  rapt 
contemplation  of  one  of  her  own  creations, 
sprang  up,  turning  the  picture  with  its  face  to 
the  wall,  and  murmuring  in  tragic  improvi- 
sation : 

"  My  soul  be  strong  !    It  ain't  for  long, 
In  San  Coulee  she  don't  belong." 

"  You  go  to  the  door,  won't  you,  Elsie  ?"  she 
added,  as  the  bell  rang. 

"  Yes ;  of  course  ;  where's  Aunt  Matilda  ?" 
"  Upstairs ;  she's  got  a  bad  headache  and  is 


FAEEWELL   TO   ELMWOOD  27 

lying  down  for  a  few  minutes.  Vevie  has  gone 
over  to  Mrs.  Lamb's  to  fetch  a  cup  of  tea  for 
her." 

The  bell  rang  again,  and  I  made  haste  to 
answer  it;  my  footsteps  awakening  a  dreary 
echo  that  accompanied  them  down  the  length 
of  the  uncarpeted  hall.  I  opened  the  door  and 
Mrs.  Elliot,  entering,  returned  my  greeting 
suavely,  asking  for  Aunt  Matilda.  "  She  is 
lying  down ;  she  has  a  bad  headache,"  I  said, 
mentally  debating  whether  it  was  my  duty  to  ask 
Mrs.  Elliot  in.  She  settled  the  matter  herself 
by  starting  towarclJlie  sitting-room  where  there 
were  a  few  pieces  01  furniture  left  by  their  pur- 
chasers for  our  use. 

"  Everything  is  in  dreadful  disorder,  Mrs. 
Elliot ;  I  hope  you  will  excuse  it,"  I  said,  follow- 
ing her. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  and  I  can  feel  for  you, 
too,  my  dear  Miss  Elsie !  It's  a  sad,  sad  busi- 
ness !" 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,"  I  returned  rather 
nettled  by  this  view  of  the  case.  "  Of  course  it 


28  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

is  sad  that  father's  health  should  fail,  but  we 
hope—" 

Mrs.  Elliot  shook  her  head.  It  was  plain 
that  she  had  small  toleration  for  my  poor 
little  hopes.  "  It's  kind  in  your  family  to  try 
to  shield  Donald  Arleigh,  but  I  think  we  all 
understand  the  young  man's  status.  Your 
aunt  is  ill,  you  say  ?  No  wonder !  After 
what  she  has  had  to  bear!" 

"  I  did  not  say  she  was  ill,  Mrs.  Elliot,  only 
that  she  has  a  headache  and  is  tired." 

Mrs.  Elliot  shook  her  head  again,  shut  her 
lips  and  sighed  ;  she  had  come  prepared  to  con- 
dole, and  condole  she  would. 

"  It's  a  dreadful  thing  that  she  must  be  trans- 
planted at  her  age,  and  forced  to  pass  the  few 
remaining  years  of  her  life  in  a  strange  land." 

"  Aunt  Matilda  isn't  an  old  woman,  and  we 
are  only  going  to  Montana,  which  isn't  a  strange 
land,"  returned  Florence  with  some  heat. 

"  You'll  find  it  strange  enough  compared  to 
this,"  our  visitor  insisted.  "  My  nephew  went 
through  there  once  on  the  cars — well,  I  have  no 


FAREWELL   TO   ELMWOOD  29 

wish  to  discourage  you.  No  doubt  it's  all  for 
the  best.  The  Lord,  He  doeth  all  things  well. 
I  hope  you'll  remember  that  in  times  of  dis- 
tress or  danger.  There's  an  Indian  reservation 
close  by  your  valley,  I  understand.  My  nephew 
told  me — but  there !  I  won't  discourage  you. 
And,  no  doubt,  the  Indians  and  cowboys  are  less 
wild  than  they  used  to  be  ;  you  are  going  into 
the  region  of  cowboys,  if  I  hear  aright." 

She  spoke  as  though  they  were  a  kind  of  wild 
animal,  and  Florence  informed  her  perversely : 

"  Oh,  we're  not  all  afraid  of  cowboys  ;  we've 
bought  one — that  is,  there  was  one  thrown  in 
with  the  ranch." 

Mrs.  Elliot  glared  at  her  with  such  an  unbe- 
lieving, yet  shocked  expression,  that  I  thought 
it  was  no  more  than  fair  to  set  the  matter  right. 
"  Florence  means,  Mrs.  Elliot,  that  there  was  a 
poor  fellow  who  had  always  lived  on  the  ranch  ; 
he  doesn't  seem  to  understand  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  live  anywhere  else,  and  whenever  the 
place  changes  hands,  he  just  stays.  He  is  very 
good  to  help  about  the  place,  Mr.  Seaton  says, 


30  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

but  he  will  not  leave  it  for  any  purpose  what- 
ever." 

"  Dear  me !  What  a  strange  whim.  Have 
you  any  idea  how  he  came  by  it  ?" 

"  Mr.  Seaton  said  that  he  had  been  badly 
frightened  once,  when  the  ranch  belonged  to 
his  father,  from  whom  Mr.  Seaton  had  obtained 
it,  and  since  then  he  has  stayed  close  by  the 
ranch." 

"  No  doubt  but  that  he  has  undergone  some 
shocking  experience.  My  nephew  said — never 
mind,  I  have  no  wish  to  discourage  you,  but 
what  a  comfort  it  must  be  to  you  all  to  reflect 
that  your  dear  mother  is  spared  the  affliction  of 
this  removal.  Give  my  regards  to  your  aunt ; 
I  feel  for  her  as  a  sister  might." 

"  I  wonder  why  some  people  always  say  the 
wrong  things!"  I  thought,  bitterly,  while  our 
visitor  arose  and  made  a  stately  step  toward  the 
door.  Then  her  eye  fell  upon  the  pile  of  can- 
vases in  the  corner,  and  she  stopped  to  look  at 
them. 

"  Pictures !     Ah,  yes ;  I  paint  a  little  myself, 


FAREWELL   TO   ELMWOOD  31 

as  perhaps  you  have  heard.  Oh,  yes ;  yes  in- 
deed. Most  expressive!"  she  remarked,  as 
Florence,  turning  the  canvases  around,  dis- 
played one  after  another.  Mrs.  Elliot  had  a 
word  of  criticism  or  of  commendation  for  each, 
until,  at  last,  Florence  showed  one  that  I  knew 
to  be  a  particular  favorite  of  her  own.  It  was  a 
copy  of  an  old  engraving,  called  "Autumn 
Memories,"  and  showed  a  torn  straw  hat  lying 
half  tilted  on  its  side  in  the  long  grass  of  an 
orchard  fence  corner.  From  out  its  crown 
peeped  a  pile  of  rosy-cheeked  apples,  two  or 
three  of  which  had  fallen  on  the  grass  beside  it. 
In  the  dim  distance  was  a  vanishing  view  of  an 
irate  farmer  with  a  club,  chasing  an  active  small 
boy  who  was  making  such  good  time  that  he 
appeared  in  no  possible  danger  of  capture. 

Mrs.  Elliot  put  up  her  glass,  the  better  to 
study  this  work  of  art.  "Ah  !"  she  exclaimed, 
after  a  careful  inspection.  "  Pumpkins  !  Very 
well  done,  very  well  indeed !  How  it  reminds 
me  of  Thanksgiving  days  and  the  dear  New 
England  cornfields  !  No  doubt  you  have  read 


32  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

those  beautiful  lines — Cooper's  I  believe — in 
which  he  so  feelingly  refers  to  the  time  '  When 
the  frost  is  on  the  pumpkin,  and  the  corn  is  in 
the  shock.'  Oh,  a  taste  for  art,  and  the  ability 
to  interpret  it,  is  a  wonderful  gift.  I  trust  that 
you  will  continue  to  improve  your  gift  in  your 
new  home,  Miss  Florence.  Vulgar  associations 
and  the  companionship  of  cowboys  need  not 
tarnish  that."  She  went  on  in  the  same  strain 
for  awhile,  seeming  to  fancy  that  we  were  going 
out  West  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  sitting  on 
the  mountain  peaks  and  looking  down  on  the 
rest  of  the  world.  Then  she  made  her  stately 
adieus  and  swept  out  of  the  house  and  out  of  our 
lives.  Indeed,  her  call  would  not  have  been 
worth  the  trouble  of  chronicling  but  for  its 
effect  on  Florence.  Scarcely  had  the  door 
closed  upon  her  when  Florence  jerked  that  un- 
fortunate copy  of  "  Autumn  Memories  "  out  of 
the  corner  and  sent  it  spinning  across  the  room. 
"Ah,  indeed !  Pumpkins,"  she  muttered  vi- 
ciously. "  Very  well  done,  v — e — ry  well  done, 
indeed !"  I  knew  her  well  enough  to  understand 


FAREWELL    TO    ELMWOOD  33 

that  the  picture  was  forever  disgraced  in  her 
eyes,  but  I  could  not  help  protesting. 

"  Don't,  Flossie ;  Mrs.  Elliot  is  always  mak- 
ing blunders ;  you  know  that.  Don't  you  recol- 
lect that  time  when  she  was  introduced  to  poor 
Mrs.  Leland,  who  is  so  dreadfully  disfigured 
with  small-pox,  and  who  is  so  sensitive  about  it  ? 
She  told  her  the  first  thing  that  some  people 
would  look  upon  such  a  face  as  hers  as  some- 
thing repulsive,  but  that  she  had  no  such  feel- 
ings. She  looked  beyond  the  hideous  mask  to 
the  soul  that  it  covered.  As  long  as  the  soul 
was  all  right,  what  mattered  it  about  the  mask ! 
And  Mrs.  Leland  cried  herself  sick  thinking 
that  that  was  the  impression  she  must  always 
make  on  strangers.  And  you  remember  when 
she  saw  that  painting  of  Mrs.  Weston's — done 
when  she  was  a  girl — she  said  she  wouldn't  have 
believed  it  possible  that  it  could  be  her,  and 
then  she  sighed,  and  added,  'Oh,  well,  being 
married  and  raising  children  will  spoil  any 
one's  good  looks.'  And  you  remember  the  time 
when  "— 
3 


34  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

"  That's  enough,"  laughed  Florence,  though 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  Mrs.  Elliot 
hasn't  made  a  blunder  this  time ;  she  has  taught 
me  what  not  to  take ;  the  pictures  are  all  daubs ; 
nothing  less.  They  are  as  much  of  a  failure 
as  my  music,  and  what  the  organ  was  shipped 
for  I  don't  know ;  everything  that  I  undertake 
is  a  failure."  She  looked  gloomily  at  the  pile  of 
canvases,  then  pushed  them  contemptuously 
with  her  foot,  and  turning  away  said,  "  You 
may  pick  out  any  that  you  choose,  Elsie,  for,  I 
dare  say,  you  are  just  silly  enough  to  think 
them  fine  because  I  did  them."  They  were  fine, 
and  as  she  went  out  I  called  Aunt  Matilda,  who 
had  got  the  better  of  her  headache  and  had 
come  down  stairs  on  Mrs.  Elliot's  departure. 
With  her  help  we  packed  them  all. 

Florence  has  genius ;  she  does  so  quickly,  so 
well,  things  that  my  unskillful  hands  and  slower 
intellect  must  achieve — if  they  are  achieved  at 
all — by  patient  drudgery.  There  is  this  differ- 
ence between  us,  however.  When  I  have  mas- 
tered anything  it  stays  by  me,  it  continues  to 


FAREWELL   TO   ELMWOOD  35 

be  a  pleasure,  but  the  very  ease  with  which 
Florence  does  a  thing  seems  to  cause  her  to 
undervalue  it.  She  has  such  a  lovely  voice  and 
so  much  natural  talent  as  a  musician,  but  is  so 
impatient  of  training  and  practice  that  Profes- 
sor Endicott  himself  advised  her  to  give  up 
music  if  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  do  more 
conscientious  work.  She  couldn't,  and  she  gave 
it  up ;  but  I  don't  believe  she  would  have  done 
so  if  she  had  fully  understood  what  a  blow  her 
decision  was  giving  to  our  family  pride.  And 
then  her  painting !  She  has  such  an  eye  for 
color  effects,  such  skill  in  shading!  Father 
went  to  see  an  artist  who  would  only  give  les- 
sons to  the  most  promising  pupils.  After  look- 
ing at  some  of  Florence's  amateur  work  he  said 
that  he  should  be  proud  to  number  her  in  his 
class.  But  she  had  a  difficulty  with  him  almost 
at  once.  He  made  it  a  point  that  she  must  begin 
at  the  very  foot  of  the  ladder,  the  very  a,  b,  c  of 
art,  as  she  said,  when  she  had  already  copied 
two  or  three  landscapes  so  well !  She  could  not 
give  in  to  his  views,  and  he  would  not  give  in 


36  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

to  hers,  so  the  lessons  were  soon  given  up,  but 
she  kept  on  with  her  painting  in  a  desultory 
way  because  she  is  so  fond  of  it.  But  she  re- 
quired a  good  deal  of — well,  perhaps  if  it  were 
any  one  but  Florence  I  might  call  it  flattery  ; 
still  I  don't  know  that  that  is  any  great  fault. 
There  are  lots  of  people  just  like  her;  they 
make  good  students  if  only  they  have  enough 
encouragement. 

The  dray  that  was  to  carry  the  few  remaining 
fragments  of  our  household  upheaval  to  the  rail- 
way station  came  not  long  after  we  had  finished 
packing  the  pictures,  and,  as  the  distance  was 
short,  we  decided  to  walk  down.  It  turned  out 
to  be  a  kind  of  farewell  ovation. 

The  townspeople,  old  acquaintances  and  life- 
long friends,  were  out  in  force.  Father  and 
Aunt  Matilda  walked  on  ahead,  shaking  hands 
and  replying  cheerily  to  the  good  wishes  show- 
ered upon  them.  Aunt  Matilda  looked  white 
and  tired,  and  when  I  saw  father's  face  I  was 
thankful  that  the  ordeal  must  necessarily  be  a 
brief  one,  yet  even  after  we  were  all  seated  in 


FAREWELL   TO    ELMWOOD  37 

the  car  it  was  not  quite  over  with.  Aunt  Ma- 
tilda was  sitting  beside  an  open  window,  smiling 
bravely  to  the  last,  when  a  great  bouquet  of 
field  lilies  was  thrust  into  view,  and  a  shrill, 
small  voice  piped,  "  Ketch  'em,  Miss  Stanley ; 
they're  for  you."  Aunt  Matilda  put  out  her  head. 
There  was  that  wretched  little  Jim  Pearson,  who 
so  many  people  insisted  should  be  sent  to  the 
Reform  School ;  his  freckled  face  was  red 
and  streaming  with  perspiration,  his  clothing 
splashed  with  swamp  mud,  and  he  held  up  the 
flowers  in  both  hands  for  aunt  to  reach. 
"Ketch  'em,"  he  panted,  "I  most  didn't  git 
here  in  time."  The  cars  were  beginning  to 
move.  Aunt  Matilda  took  the  flowers ;  she 
looked  down  into  the  gray  eyes  upraised  to  meet 
her  own.  "  God  bless  and  care  for  you,  little 
Jim,"  she  said,  huskily.  "  Same  to  you,  ma'am," 
piped  Jim,  as  the  cars  slipped  past  the  waiting 
groups,  past  the  familiar  stream,  past  the  familiar 
fields,  and  then  Aunt  Matilda  sank  back  into 
her  seat,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
cried.  Jim  was  a  reprobate,  but  she  had  always 


38  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

believed  in  him.  She  had  on  one  occasion  even 
taken  his  part,  and  his  word,  against  that  of  a 
well-dressed  boy  when  it  came  to  a  question  of 
veracity  between  them.  It  happened  accident- 
ally, I'm  sure,  that  Jim  was  telling  the  truth, 
but  no  one  save  Aunt  Matilda  could  have 
been  convinced  of  it.  Aunt  laid  the  lilies  on 
the  seat  opposite  her,  beside  Vevie.  As  there 
were  none  to  be  had  nearer  than  Weston's 
swamp-field,  three  miles  from  town,  Jim  must 
have  run  there  to  get  these.  After  a  farewell 
glance  at  the  receding  village,  Vevie  turned  her 
eyes  contemplatively  upon  the  blossoms. 

"  I  s'pose  God  was  thinking  of  Jim  Pearson 
when  He  said '  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto 
me/ "  she  presently  remarked,  with  grave 
thoughtfuluess,  "  'cause  he's  awful  little  for  his 
size,  and  so  dirty  that  nobody  but  God  and 
Aunt  Matilda  would  want  him  around." 


CHAPTER  III 

ACROSS  THE   PLAINS   IN   A   PRAIRIE  SCHOONER 

THREE  days  and  nights  of  continuous  travel 
took  us  to  Carston,  a  rough,  straggling  frontier 
village,  but  of  some  importance  on  account  of  it 
being  the  outfitting  point  for  miners  and  ranch- 
men going  to  the  mountain  valleys.  As  the 
train,  late  in  the  afternoon,  rolled  up  to  the  bare 
platform  a  score  or  more  of  men  in  garb  that 
we  already  knew  to  be  distinctly  Western,  lined 
up  along  its  edge  and  waited  for  the  train  to 
come  to  a  standstill. 

"I  wonder  if  it's  a  hold-up?"  whispered 
Florence,  glancing  nervously  along  the  pictur- 
esque line. 

"  It's  more  likely  to  be  a  welcome,"  returned 
father,  smiling.  "  There,  do  you  see  that  small, 
bustling,  stand -out -of- my -way -looking  man 
next  the  tall  cowboy  in  a  white  hat?  Unless 
I  miss  my  guess,  that  individual  is  on  the 

39 


40  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

lookout  for  us,  and  answers  to  the  name  of 
Seaton." 

Father's  guess  was  shown,  as  we  left  the  car 
and  reached  the  platform,  to  be  right  in  every 
particular.  Mr.  Seaton  greeted  us  cordially, 
piloted  us  to  a  hotel,  and  left  us  to  our  own  de- 
vices for  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  but  he 
warned  us  that  he  would  be  on  hand  at  an  early 
hour  the  next  morning,  and  that  if  we  "  looked 
alive  "  we  might  get  started  for  San  Coulee  that 
day.  My  impression  is  that  we  looked  very 
much  alive,  but,  nevertheless,  there  were  so 
many  purchases  to  be  made  that  we  did  not  get 
under  way  for  the  valley  until  nearly  noon  of 
the  second  day.  Then  we  might  have  been  seen 
by  any  interested  observer  starting  out  on  the 
last  stage  of  our  journey  to  our  future  home. 

Under  Mr.  Seaton's  direction  and  selection 
father  had  bought  four  of  the  tough  little  native 
horses,  all  of  them  well  broken  to  wagon  or  sad- 
dle. He  had  rather  fancied  a  span  of  tall 
American  horses  that  were  brought  to  the  hotel 
for  our  inspection,  but  Mr.  Seaton  so  decidedly 


ACROSS   THE   PLAINS  41 

negatived  the  idea  of  purchasing  them  that 
father  yielded  to  his  judgment,  and  it  is  but  fair 
to  say  that  in  the  matter  of  selecting  our  outfit 
and  stock,  we  afterward  saw  good  reason  to  con- 
gratulate ourselves  that  his  skill  and  experience 
had  been  at  our  service.  Our  four  horses  were 
hitched  to  the  serviceable  wagon  that  father 
bought.  Into  it  were  piled  our  trunks,  the  house- 
hold goods  that  we  found  already  awaiting  our 
arrival,  three  side-saddles,  a  man's  saddle,  the 
organ,  some  bedding  and  mattresses — a  big  load. 
Away  we  drove,  following  in  the  wake  of  Mr. 
Seaton,  who  had  taken  aboard  his  own  lighter 
conveyance  some  of  our  household  goods. 

The  weather — it  was  about  the  middle  of  May 
— was  delightful.  It  was  well  that  it  was,  for 
we  were  inexperienced  drivers,  and  I  have  my 
doubts  as  to  our  ability  to  have  gotten  through 
at  all  but  for  the  fact  that  Mr.  Seaton's  team 
took  the  lead,  and  about  all  we  had  to  do  was  to 
follow.  Father  was,  ostensibly,  our  driver,  but 
I  sat  beside  him,  ready  at  any  time  to  give  him 
the  full  benefit  of  my  inexperience,  and  Aunt 


42  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

Matilda  and  Florence  from  their  seats  in  the 
back  of  the  wagon  bestowed  upon  us  both  an 
amount  of  advice  that  would  have  been  disas- 
trous enough  had  either  of  us  made  any  attempt 
to  follow  it.  Our  horses  were  small,  but  the 
strength  of  the  little  creatures  was  prodigious. 
They  trotted  off  blithely  with  the  heavy  load 
that  seemed  so  cruelly  big  for  them,  so  that  we 
had  no  trouble  in  keeping  up  with  Mr.  Seaton, 
who,  leaving  his  own  well-trained  team  to  walk 
on  alone,  would  occasionally  come  back  to  our 
wagon  and  give  us  what  he  designated  as 
"  pointers "  on  the  management  of  a  broncho 
quartette.  We  were  traveling  straight  toward 
the  low  mountain  range  that  loomed  up  in 
the  northwest  with  hourly  increasing  distinct- 
ness and  majesty.  The  road  stretched  over  the 
plains  in  a  long  white  ribbon,  until  long  before 
reaching  the  base  of  those  far  mountains  its 
converging  lines  met,  becoming  an  indistinct, 
misty  blur  on  the  verge  of  a  horizon  that  never 
before  had  seemed  so  distant. 

At  the  close  of  the  first  day  out  we  camped 


ACE08S   THE   PLAINS  43 

beside  the  road,  where  a  tiny  stream  gave  an 
economical  supply  of  water,  but  those  moun- 
tains, save  that  they  were  constantly  growing 
in  impressiveness,  were  as  far  off,  as  unchanged 
in  appearance,  as  on  the  hour  that  our  eyes 
first  rested  upon  them.  But  before  noon  of 
the  second  day  out,  the  mountains  began  to 
proclaim  their  individuality.  Forests  of  ever- 
greens rose  rank  on  rank,  or  scattering  out 
toward  the  mountain  tops  in  long,  regular 
lines,  seemingly  advanced  up  and  beyond  the 
crests,  giving  the  weird  effect  of  columns  of 
marching  soldiery  disappearing  into  an  un- 
known land.  Colonies  of  prairie  dogs  greeted 
us  with  shrill  yapping  as  our  wagons  rolled  by, 
or  went  scampering  out  of  sight  with  a  disdain- 
ful flirt  of  their  stubby  little  tails  whenever  we 
halted  the  team  to  get  a  better  view  of  them. 
A  dingy  yellow  brown  coyote  thrust  his  alert 
head  and  sharp-pointed  ears  out  from  a  hole  in 
the  bank  of  an  arroyo  over  which  we  had  just 
passed  by  means  of  a  very  uncertain  bridge,  and 
barked  derisively  when  we  stopped  to  study 


44  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

him.  He  disdained  to  retreat  to  his  hole,  and 
slunk  around  in  the  rear  of  our  wagon,  crossed 
the  road,  made  a  swift  detour,  and  coming  out 
ahead,  took  his  position  on  the  top  of  a  little 
hillock.  From  that  coign  of  vantage  he  ap- 
peared to  be,  in  his  turn,  studying  us.  I  doubt 
if  the  study  inspired  him  with  much  respect, 
for  his  derisive  bark  presently  changed  to  a 
note  so  much  like  mocking  laughter  that  Calif, 
who  had  ignored  the  prairie  dogs,  and  had  re- 
garded the  antics  of  the  wolf  with  stately  indif- 
ference, could  stand  it  no  longer.  Wrenching 
himself  free  from  Vevie's  detaining  hand  he 
bounded  from  the  wagon  like  a  flash,  and  took 
after  the  wolf,  which,  discovering  the  greyhound 
for  the  first  time,  gave  a  howl  of  dismay  and 
turning  tail,  fled  with  as  little  apparent  effort, 
and  as  lightly,  as  though  blown  by  the  wind. 
Calif's  blood  was  up.  He  kept  on  after  the 
Ishmaelite  of  the  plains  at  a  pace  that  would 
soon  have  overtaken  him  had  he  not  suddenly 
and  mysteriously  disappeared. 

"  He's  taken  back  to  the  arroyo ;  that's  the 


ACROSS    THE    PLAINS  45 

last  we'll  see  of  him,"  remarked  Mr.  Seaton, 
who,  like  father,  had  halted  to  watch  the  chase. 
"  That  was  a  purty  run,"  he  continued  approv- 
ingly. "  Them  long-legged  greyhounds  is 
about  the  swiftest  things  on  earth,  I  reckon, 
but  yours  is  soft." 

Vevie,  whose  face  was  white  with  apprehension 
for  her  pet's  safety,  could  not  endure  what  she 
took  to  be  an  aspersion  of  his  character.  "  Calif 
isn't  any  more  softer  than  you  are,  Mr.  Seaton," 
she  flashed  out.  "  He  knows  just  as  much  as 
anybody,  don't  he,  Aunt  Matilda  ?"  but  without 
waiting  for  aunt's  comforting  corroboration,  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed. 
"  He's  lost,  now,  I  know  he  is.  He  can  never 
find  his  way  back  to  us." 

"  Then  this  is  his  very  handsome  white  ghost 
that  I  see  trotting  toward  us,  little  daughter," 
said  father,  smiling ;  and,  as  she  scrambled  up 
to  take  a  look  in  the  direction  indicated,  Mr. 
Seaton  explained : 

"  I  wasn't  alludin'  to  his  intellec',  which  I 
make  no  doubt  is  strong- enough  for  all  the  uses 


46  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

he'll  ever  be  called  on  to  put  it  to.  I  just  meant 
that  he  wasn't  in  practice  for  runnin'.  But 
speakin'  of  clogs,  that  dog  I  sold  you  with  the 
flock  is  the  best  one  and  the  smartest  that  ever 
I  saw.  Hated  to  part  with  him,  I  did,  though 
I've  no  use  for  him  unless  I  keep  sheep.  Tears 
like  Felix  couldn't  live  without  he  had  a  flock 
of  sheep  to  tend  to." 

"  He  ought  to  be  a  good  dog,  considering  the 
price  we  paid  for  him,"  Aunt  Matilda  could  not 
forbear  saying.  The  price  of  the  collie  had 
seemed  to  her  Mr.  Beaton's  one  outrageous  de- 
mand ;  indeed,  she  had  said  that  that  gentleman 
probably  wished  to  make  up  on  the  sale  of  the 
dog  what  he  lost  by  the  low  price  of  the  sheep. 

Mr.  Seaton  knew  his  own  business.  He 
laughed:  "Miss  Stanley,  I  sold  you  that  dog  for 
one  hundred  dollars ;  sounds  like  a  big  price,  I 
know,  when  you  can  git  dogs  'most  anywhere  for 
the  trouble  of  totin'  'em  home.  But — them  dogs 
ain't  Felix,  and  say,  if  you  think  at  the  end  of 
the  year,  when  you've  had  him  long  enough  to 
git  acquainted  with  him,  that  a  hundred  dollars 


ACROSS   THE    PLAINS  47 

was  too  much  to  give  for  him,  I'll  take  him  off 
your  hands  at  that  very  figure ;  I  will  so." 

"  That  sounds  reasonable,"  Aunt  Matilda 
admitted,  and  from  that  moment  I  never  heard 
the  collie  spoken  of  as  an  extravagant  purchase. 
As  we  neared  the  mountains  we  saw  herds  and 
herds  of  cattle  on  the  plains,  but  no  sheep,  which 
seemed  to  me  so  odd  that  I  spoke  of  it  to  father, 
who,  at  our  next  halt,  passed  the  observation 
along  to  Mr.  Seaton.  "Lots  of  cattle  but  no 
sheep !"  exclaimed  our  mentor,  glancing  toward 
the  dun  herds  with  an  air  of  surprise.  "  Does 
seem  to  be  so  just  here,  don't  it?"  and  then  he 
changed  the  subject. 

As  we  broke  camp  and  took  the  road  on  the 
morning  of  our  third  day  out,  we  seemed  to  be 
driving  straight  into  a  high  triangular  peak, 
which  Mr.  Seaton  said  guarded  the  entrance  to 
San  Coulee  valley.  Furthermore  he  informed 
us  that  the  long  black  rents  in  the  mountain 
side  were  wild,  rocky  cafions,  the  sources  of 
streams  and  the  chosen  home  of  the  larger  and 
fiercer  kinds  of  game. 


48  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  Do  cowboys  live  there,  too,"  asked  Vevie 
with  interest.  The  child  seemed  somehow  to 
have  imbibed  Mrs.  Elliot's  idea  of  the  nature 
and  attributes  of  a  cowboy. 

"  Well,  they  ain't  a  livin'  in  the  caflons  very 
much,  just  now,"  returned  our  guide  dryly,  "  I 
re'clect  heariu'  that  Johnny  and  his  father 
dwelt  amongst  the  rocks  up  in  Coulee  cafion  for 
quite  a  spell  once,  but  I  don't  reckon  you'll  ever 
be  called  on  to  take  to  the  cations."  Ambig- 
uous words !  Full  of  sinister  meaning,  had  we 
but  known  it.  Johnny  was  the  cowboy  who  had 
been,  as  Florence  told  Mrs.  Elliot,  thrown  in 
with  the  ranch. 

On  this  last  morning  Mr.  Beaton  suggested 
that,  as  his  load  was  much  lighter  than  ours,  he 
should  drive  on  ahead  and  make  such  prepa- 
ration as  he  could  at  the  ranch  house,  for  our 
comfort  when  we  arrived.  "  But,"  objected  father, 
"  Johnny,  as  you  call  him,  knows  that  we  are 
likely  to  be  there  to-day ;  won't  he  do  all  that  is 
needful  ?" 

"  Johnny  is  a  good  feller,  but  he  needs  to  be 


ACROSS    THE    PLAINS  49 

directed;  he'll  do  anything  on  earth  that  he's 
told  to  do — save  and  except  leavin'  the  ranch — 
but  he  needs  to  be  told.  I  ain't  sure  that  he'd 
das't  to  set  down  and  eat  a  meal  o'  vittles  unless 
he  was  told  that  he  might." 

"  Very  well,"  assented  father,  who  did  not 
fancy  the  arrangement,  "just  as  you  say,  Mr. 
Seaton,  we  can  certainly  follow  along  after  you." 

"  Not  too  long  after  me,  either,"  Mr.  Seaton 
warned  him,  with  a  weather-wise  glance  at  the 
sky.  "  It's  thickening  up ;  that  bank  of  clouds 
over  on  the  Wind  River  range  ain't  hangin' 
'round  there  for  nothin'.  I'm  lookin'  for  a 
mighty  wet  spell  of  weather  before  night ;  storms, 
in  this  country,  and  at  this  time  o'  year,  come  up 
sudden  and  do  business  whilst  they  are  up ;  so 
don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  your  feet,  but 
keep  the  bronchos  humpin'."  He  drove  away 
at  such  a  pace  that  his  entire  outfit  was  a  van- 
ishing speck  within  an  hour,  and  within  two 
hours  was  indistinguishable  from  the  clumps  of 
Spanish  bayonet  or  yucca  plants  that  strewed 
the  plains  for  miles  ahead. 
4 


50  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

"  I  don't  see  just  why  Seaton  was  so  bent  on 
leaving  us,"  father  said  at  last,  after  some  miles 
of  silent  reflection ;  "  that  excuse  of  his  that  he 
wished  to  make  preparation  for  our  reception 
was  trivial,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  house  is 
already  furnished  and  there  is  a  man  on  hand 
who  certainly  will  know  enough  to  unharness 
and  care  for  horses,  whatever  else  he  doesn't 
know." 

"  Don't  worry,  Hugh,  we'll  get  through  all 
right." 

"  I'm  not  doubting  that,  Matilda,  and,  after 
all,  Seaton  has  been  very  kind  ;  I  ought  not  to 
grumble." 

None  of  us  suspected  his  real  reason,  which, 
months  afterward  we  had  learned  enough  to 
believe,  was  because  he  did  not  care  to  be  seen 
driving  into  San  Coulee  valley  with  the  owner 
of  a  sheep  ranch.  The  firm,  gravelly  soil  made 
an  ideal  road-bed,  and  Florence,  who  had  sold 
her  bicycle,  began  to  regret  that  she  had  not 
kept  it. 

"  It  looks  as  if  all  one  would  have  to   do 


ACROSS   THE    PLAINS  51 

would  be  just  to  get  on  to  the  wheel  and  coast 
down  to  those  mountains,"  she  remarked  on 
that  last  afternoon  as  the  triangular  peak,  now 
close  at  hand,  rose  before  us  in  quiet  majesty. 
Father  smiled  as  he  said : 

"  You'd  find  it  hard  coasting  here,  Flossie ; 
this  is  up." 

Florence  had,  by  this  time,  graduated  from 
the  seat  on  the  flour  sack  which  had  satisfied 
her  first  humble  aspirations,  to  one  on  the 
hearth  of  our  new  kitchen  stove,  and  leaning 
forward  the  better  to  study  the  angle  of  the 
road.  She  announced  at  last : 

"  It  is  up.  See  how  the  horses  are  pulling 
on  the  traces ;  it's  up ;  but  it  looks  down." 

"A  common  illusion,  I  am  told,  when  one 
nears  the  mountains,"  father  said.  "  What  I'm 
afraid  of  is  that  we'll  receive  more  practical 
proof  that  it's  up  than  we  care  for ;  if  you'll 
notice,  the  clouds  have  crept  over  from  that 
further  range  and  are  rolling  down  upon  us  fast. 
See !  our  sentinel  peak  is  half  obscured,  and  I'm" 
pretty  sure  I  heard  thunder." 


52  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

"  I  heard  it,"  Aunt  Matilda  confessed,  "  but 
I  daresay  it's  only  a  passing  shower." 

"  I  hope  so ;  we  cannot  be  many  miles  from 
the  mouth  of  the  valley  now.  I  would  hate 
to  stop  for  a  shower  so  near  our  journey's 
end." 

"So  near  to  the  promised  land,"  remarked 
Florence,  stretching  her  arms  upward  with  a 
long  yawn,  and  Vevie  struck  lightly  into  the 
old  Methodist  hymn  that  the  words  called  up : 

"  I  have  a  crown  in  the  promised  land, 

My  Father  calls  me,  I  must  go, 
To  wear  it  in  the  promised  land." 

"  You've  got  a  crown  here,"  father  informed 
her,  laying  his  hand  for  a  moment  on  the 
child's  shining  hair,  "  be  content  with  that." 

Vevie  has  the  most  wonderful  hair ;  not 
yellow,  like  Florence's,  nor  brown,  like  mine, 
but  a  shimmering,  flaxen,  misty  mass,  like  noth- 
ing so  much  as  moonlight  on  still  water ;  like  a 
trailing  white  wreath  of  glory.  That  wonderful 
abundant  fair  hair,  with  the  thoughtful,  spirit- 


ACROSS    THE   PLAINS  53 

uelle  face  and  the  deep  unchildish  eyes  often 
made  me  pause  and  look  at  her  involuntarily. 
It  seemed,  with  that  white,  ethereal  presence 
that  there  should  be  a  rustle  of  wings. 

The  child  shook  her  head,  smiling  faintly  at 
father's  words,  but  the  song  ceased,  and  she  fell 
to  watching  the  advancing,  descending  clouds 
with  an  expression  of  rapt  interest. 

The  black  wall  advanced  and  drooped  rapidly ; 
if  we  had  known  then  as  much  of  the  danger 
from  waterspouts  in  these  wild  mountains  in 
storms  as  we  afterward  learned  we  should  have 
stopped  at  once  and  made  preparations  to  meet 
the  oncoming  deluge  of  wind  and  rain ;  but,  igno- 
rant of  the  possibilities  of  danger  for  us  in  that  ad- 
vancing black  wall  with  its  sullen  roll  of  thunder 
and  quivering  flashes  of  light,  we  urged  the  tired 
ponies  on  the  faster  and  pressed  forward  into  the 
clouds  until  we  found  ourselves  enveloped  in  a 
hissing,  blinding  torrent  of  rain.  Rain?  It 
was  water,  driven  in  a  solid  sheet  before  a  fierce 
wind,  that  in  an  instant  caught  the  white  canvas 
top  of  our  prairie  schooner,  and,  swelling  it  out 


54  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

to  balloon-like  dimensions,  made  the  stout  oak 
wagon  bows  creak  and  groan  as  the  struggling 
canvas  pulled  upon  them.  For  a  moment 
there  seemed  imminent  danger  of  the  wagon 
overturning;  then  the  frightened  horses,  re- 
fusing to  face  the  storm,  whirled  short  around, 
and  in  doing  so  righted  the  wagon,  but  in 
rescuing  it  from  the  danger  of  being  capsized 
by  the  wind  they  cramped  it  dangerously  on 
their  own  account.  Father  and  I,  both  tugging 
frantically  at  the  reins,  succeeded  in  getting 
them  partly  back  to  place,  but  a  wilder  gust  of 
wind  just  then  tore  one  end  of  the  canvas  cover 
loose  and  frightened  Chris,  as  we  had  named  the 
yellow  broncho.  In  a  delirium  of  excitement 
he  began  to  buck,  and  the  rest  of  the  team  were 
fast  becoming  unmanageable,  inspired,  I  sup- 
pose, by  the  yellow  broncho's  example.  Father 
sprang  out,  regardless  of  the  rain  and  of  Aunt 
Matilda's  appeals  for  him  to  put  on  his  mackin- 
tosh, and  made  his  way  to  the  heads  of  the 
leaders,  where  I  instantly  joined  him.  Between 
us,  by  much  pulling  and  coaxing  we  quieted 


ACROSS    THE    PLAINS  55 

the  horses  and  succeeded  in  getting  them  around 
with  their  backs  to  the  storm.  Then,  wet  and 
shivering  we  crept  into  the  wagon  again,  pulled 
off  our  drenched  outer  garments  and  put  on 
those  that  Aunt  Matilda  had  got  in  readiness 
for  us.  We  sat  there,  waiting  in  awed  silence 
for  fully  an  hour,  while  the  storm  raged  around 
us.  It  was  our  first,  never-to-be-forgotten  ex- 
perience with  a  mountain  storm.  The  peals  of 
thunder  were  terrific;  the  echoing  and  re- 
echoing reverberations  rolled  away  and  away 
among  the  mountain  peaks  until  at  last  the 
sound  seemed  to  roll  out  of  hearing  over  the 
edge  of  the  universe. 

We  were  very  thankful  for  dry  quarters  and 
at  the  end  of  something  over  an  hour  the  storm, 
as  far  as  active  manifestations  were  concerned, 
ceased  almost  as  suddenly  as  it  began.  The 
trailing  skirts  of  the  black  cloud  swept  over  us ; 
there  was  a  sudden,  delicious  lighting  up  of  the 
drenched  landscape,  and  the  setting  sun  came 
out  for  one  farewell  glance  before  leaving  his 
wild  Western  principality  to  darkness  and  night. 


56  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

But,  although  now  less  than  eight  miles  from 
the  cottage  where  rest  and  welcome  awaited  us, 
our  adventures  were  by  no  means  over ;  indeed, 
the  latter  part  of  that  last  half  day  held  for  us 
more  hair-breadth  escapes  by  land  and  water 
than  all  the  rest  of  our  journey  put  together. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    PERILOUS    RIDE 

WE  turned  the  team  around  and  started  for- 
ward the  moment  the  last  vestige  of  that  black 
skirt  of  clouds  swept  over  us,  but  as  we  advanced 
we  saw  with  a  kind  of  helpless  concern  that  the 
horses  were  wading  in  water  that  was  constantly 
growing  deeper  until  the  road-bed  seemed  the 
bed  of  a  stream  through  which  we  were  making 
a  perilous  passage.  The  mountain  before  us 
had  served  as  a  watershed  for  a  veritable  cloud- 
burst. 

The  water  swept  down  its  sides  in  constantly 
increasing  volume  and  with  augmenting  force. 
"  I've  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  swimming  on  dry 
land,"  father  said,  eying  the  moist  prospect  ap- 
prehensively, "  but  I  never  thought  that  I  should 
care  to  try  it."  Then,  looking  at  Florence,  he 
asked :  "  Does  the  road  to  the  mountain  lead  up 
or  down  ?" 

57 


58  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  The  water  leads  down,"  she  returned 
promptly. 

"  You'll  see  it  turn  directly,"  he  said,  "  and 
then  we'll  sail  into  the  valley  on  the  current ; 
just  wait  until  we  round  the  shoulder  of  this 
giant  and  you'll  see."  "This  giant"  was  the 
triangular  peak  that  guarded  the  entrance  to  the 
valley.  "  The  road  from  the  mountain  into  the 
valley  makes  a  fall  of  something  over  a  thousand 
feet  in  less  than  a  half-mile,"  father  continued, 
and  at  that  moment  we  rounded  the  first  curve 
and  caught  a  passing,  beautiful  glimpse  of  a  still 
green  valley,  far  beneath.  We  girls  uttered  in- 
voluntary exclamations  of  delight,  but  it  was  no 
time  for  sight-seeing,  the  exigencies  of  the  road 
demanded  our  undivided  and  not  very  capable 
attention.  The  roadway  was  cut  along  the  side 
of  the  mountain,  and,  as  we  swung  around  the 
first  curve,  the  volume  of-  water  turned  with  us 
and  went  roaring  down  the  path  ahead.  Sud- 
denly, above  the  rush  of  water,  a  sharp  whistle 
sounded,  twice  and  thrice  repeated.  It  came 
from  a  bit  of  the  road  that  we  could  not  see, 


A    PERILOUS    RIDE  59 

around  the  mountain  shoulder,  and  father 
stopped  the  team,  saying,  "  I  wonder  what  that 
means,  some  kind  of  a  signal,  I'm  sure."  We 
all  listened  anxiously  while  we  waited,  in  no 
little  danger,  as  it  seemed,  of  being  washed  down 
by  the  increasing  torrent  into  the  valley  that 
shone  so  bright  below  us.  Then  the  whistle 
was  shrilly  repeated  ;  this  time  father  echoed  it ; 
another  silence,  then  a  big  masculine  voice 
shouted,  "  Well,  why  don't  you  come  on  then  ; 
I  can't  hold  my  team  here  all  day." 

Father  started  up  our  horses  remarking,  in  a 
somewhat  crestfallen  tone,  "  I  ought  to  have 
thought  of  that.  This  road  is  cut,  as  you  see, 
along  the  side  of  the  mountain  and  there  are 
probably  niches  scooped  out  at  intervals  for  the 
convenience  of  passing  wagons ;  as  we  are  going 
down  we  have  the  right  of  way."  We  were  now 
so  close  to  the  niche  in  question  that  his  ex- 
planation was  unnecessary.  Rounding  the 
curve  we  came  upon  a  man  who  was  holding  a 
yoke  of  oxen  against  the  side  of  a  too  shallow 
niche  by  literally  pressing  them,  broadside, 


60  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

up  close  to  the  rocky  wall  by  main  strength, 
while  the  water  poured  from  the  overhanging 
rock  above  full  upon  his  head  and  shoulders  and 
the  water  below  ran  in  a  swift  muddy  current 
reaching  well  up  on  his  boot  legs.  It  turned 
out  to  be  the  worst  point  on  the  road  at  which 
to  meet  at  outgoing  team.  Luckily  the  man 
had  no  wagon  ;  if  he  had  had  one  I  doubt  if  we 
could  have  passed  him.  As  it  was  our  frisky 
horses,  true  to  their  usual  habits  of  investiga- 
tion, pricked  up  their  ears  at  the  strange  specta- 
cle of  cattle  bearing  a  yoke  and,  with  dilating 
eyes  and  nostrils,  evinced  an  intention  to  back. 
To  back  up-hill  was  not  feasible,  and  the  wagon 
began  slowly  to  slew  around. 

"Say,"  shouted  our  new  acquaintance  from 
out  his  impromptu  shower  bath,  "  you  want  to 
look  out !  Water's  softened  the  road  until  it's 
jest  mush  on  the  edge ;  if  your  team  backs  off 
there  they  won't  never  back  off  nowhere  else." 

Father  drew  the  reins  with  all  his  feeble 
strength  while  I  lashed  the  wheelers  frantically. 
Instead  of  going  on  the  yellow  broncho  began  to 


ONE  WHEEL   HAD  SLIPPED  OVER  THAT  AWFUL  VERGE 
(Page  61.) 


A   PERILOUS    RIDE  61 

rear.  A  stifled  cry  from  Florence  told  us  that 
one  wheel  had  slipped  over  that  awful  verge. 
Without  a  word  the  man  with  the  oxen  aban- 
doned them  to  their  own  devices  and  sprang  for 
Chris'  head,  pulled  fiercely  on  his  bit  and 
brought  him  to  place  with  a  sharp  word  of  com- 
mand ;  then,  as  the  horses  sprang  forward  he 
stood  aside  for  them  to  pass,  giving  to  each  a 
few  impartial  cuts  with  his  heavy  whip  and  so 
exciting  them  to  speed. 

"  Don't  stop  for  anything  I"  he  shouted,  as  we 
swept  past.  "  If  you  meet  any  one  else  drive 
through  'em.  The  river  bridge  was  trembling 
when  I  come  up ;  it'll  be  gone  before  you  git 
there  if  you  don't  hurry." 

"  I  wonder  what  he  means  ?"  queried  Aunt 
Matilda  anxiously. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  he  means  just  what  he  says," 
returned  father  whose  face  was  pale  with  ap- 
prehension, as  well  it  might  be,  for  the  horses 
were  now  going  at  a  terrific  rate,  the  heavy 
wagon  swaying  and  lurching  behind  them, 
threatening  at  every  instant  to  overturn  or  be 


62  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

hurled  bodily  from  the  narrow  track  into  the 
gulf  below.  Our  tugging  at  the  lines  had  no 
more  effect  in  checking  the  flying  horses  than  if 
they  were  held  with  wisps  of  straw.  A  backward 
glance  showed  me  Aunt  Matilda  and  Florence 
clinging  with  colorless  lips  to  whatever  they 
could  lay  hands  upon,  but  making  no  outcry, 
while  Vevie,  with  an  arm  around  Calif 's  neck, 
gazed,  wide-eyed,  into  the  depths  beneath  us, 
apparently  unconscious  of  the  danger  in  our 
terrible  descent. 

The  wagon  had  gained  such  an  impetus  that 
I  do  not  suppose  it  would  have  been  possible 
for  the  team  to  check  it.  On,  on,  we  went,  as 
helpless  to  stay  our  progress  as  some  gigantic 
missile  hurled  from  a  catapult.  To  this  day  I 
shudder  when  I  recall  the  peril  of  that  terri- 
ble descent,  and  yet  the  danger  incurred  by 
a  slower,  more  cautious  progress  would  have 
been  nearly  as  great,  only  we  did  not  then 
know  it. 

Down  the  mountain  we  thundered,  throwing 
mud  and  water  in  all  directions ;  down,  until 


A    PERILOUS    RIDE  63 

by  a  merciful  providence  we  reached  the  slight 
stretch  of  rising  ground  fronting  the  approach 
to  the  bridge  over  the  swollen,  turbid  river.  A 
swift  brown  stream,  the  overflow  from  the  river 
channel,  ran  across  this  approach ;  into  and  over 
it  on  to  the  bridge,  we  thundered  with  scarcely 
slackening  speed  ;  through  the  like  overflow  on 
the  farther  side  and  so  upon  a  stretch  of  muddy 
road  where  the  blown  horses  presently  came 
down  to  a  walk,  and  then  Vevie's  calm  voice 
broke  the  silence.  "  Father,  why  don't  you  put 
your  foot  on  the  iron  thing  that  Mr.  Seaton 
showed  us,  and  make  it  bite  the  wheels  ?" 
Neither  of  us  had  before  thought  of  the  brakes 
with  their  convenient  rod  running  within  easy 
reach  of  the  driver's  foot.  We  had  not  had 
occasion  to  use  the  brakes  in  crossing  the 
plains,  and  as  the  rod  had  a  tendency  to  fall 
forward  when  the  wagon  was  going  down-hill, 
and  as  we  had  an  equal  tendency  to  forget  to 
remove  it  when  going  up-hill,  father  had  com- 
promised matters  by  fastening  it  securely  back 
with  a  chain  and  then  forgetting  all  about  it. 


61  THE   GIKL    RANCHERS 

Of  course  our  friend  of  the  ox-team,  when  he 
started  our  horses  up  so  briskly,  supposed,  as  he 
afterward  told  us,  that  our  brakes  were  ready 
for  use.  An  experienced  freighter  would  as 
soon  think  of  managing  his  team  without  lines 
as  of  attempting  the  descent  of  a  mountain 
without  brakes ;  that,  however,  was  not  only 
what  we  attempted,  but  what  we  did,  and  in 
safety. 

Father  and  I  sitting  on  the  front  seat,  were 
as  wet  as  if  we  had  been  in  the  river.  He 
stopped  the  horses  and,  wiping  the  mud  and 
water  from  his  face  with  his  coat  sleeve,  glanced 
back  at  Aunt  Matilda,  remarking,  "  That  was  a 
narrow  escape,  Mattie." 

"  E-ather,"  assented  Aunt  Matilda,  who  was 
evidently  indisposed  to  talk  about  it,  but  Vevie 
said  gravely,  "  I  think  we  corned  down  too  soon, 
papa ;  I  would  like  to  ride  after  oxens  better 
when  we  go  down-hill." 

"  It  was  the  fault  of  the  driver,  and  not  the 
horses,  that  we  came  down  the  mountain  like 
a  cannon  ball  let  loose,  little  daughter,"  lie 


A   PERILOUS    RIDE  65 

returned,  gathering  up  the  lines ;  then  he  said, 
looking  over  his  shoulder  for  Florence  who  had 
not  yet  spoken,  "  Are  you  all  right,  Flossie  ?" 

There  was  no  reply,  and  Aunt  Matilda,  turn- 
ing her  head,  uttered  a  wild  cry,  "  Hugh,  stop ! 
stop !  she's  gone ;  she  has  been  thrown  out ! 
Oh,  Florence !  Florence !"  Such  an  outburst 
from  self-contained  Aunt  Matilda,  who  seldom 
gave  way  to  emotion  lest  she  might  distress 
some  one  else,  was  nearly  as  startling  as  the  in- 
formation itself. 

"Hush,  Matilda,"  father  cried,  halting  the 
team,  "she  has  probably  jumped  out;  she  could 
not  get  out  any  other  way." 

"I'm  sure  she  was  thrown  out,  and  she's 
probably  lying  back  in  the  road  helpless," 
sobbed  Aunt  Matilda,  whose  overstrained  nerves 
had  given  away. 

"  That's  nonsense,  Matilda ;  she  might,  if  she 
was  spry  and  active  enough,  have  crawled  to 
the  end  of  the  wagon  and  dropped  out  behind. 
That  would  have  been  a  way  of  saving  herself 
if  the  wagon  went  over  the  precipice." 
5 


66  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

"And  Florence  would  like  to  save  herself 
always,"  said  Vevie,  seriously. 

"  Elsie,"  father  continued,  "  go  back  to  the 
river  and  see  if  you  can  find  any  trace  of  her ; 
I'll  stay  with  the  team  and  get  the  brake  ready 
for  use,  too,  before  we  start  again."  This  he 
did,  and  we  used  it  when  necessary  for  the 
remainder  of  our  journey. 

When  we  got  out  of  the  wagon  and  looked 
back  toward  the  river  that  we  had  but  just 
crossed,  a  new  and  terrible  surprise  awaited  us. 
Brief  as  had  been  the  interval  since  our  cross- 
ing, it  had  been  long  enough  to  complete  the 
work  of  destruction.  The  bridge  was  gone ! 
Aunt  Matilda  and  Vevie  had  got  out  of  the 
wagon  to  go  with  me,  and  I  do  not  know  which 
one  of  us,  or  if  all  together,  gave  the  startled 
cry  that  caused  father  to  thrust  his  distressed 
face  out  from  the  wagon  cover  and  inquire 
anxiously  : 

"What  now?" 

"  The  bridge  is  gone,  Hugh  I" 

"  Is  it  ?" 


A    PERILOUS    RIDE  67 

He  could  say  no  more  for  a  moment.  I 
think  that  the  same  thought  occurred  to  all 
three  of  the  older  ones,  "  What  if  she  were  on 
the  bridge  when  it  went  down  ?"  Then  Aunt 
Matilda  whose  courage  always  rose  with  emer- 
gencies, prepared  herself  for  action. 

"  Come,  Elsie,  are  you  coming  ?" 

We  reached  the  water's  edge  and  were  stand- 
ing staring  blankly  at  the  place  where  the  bridge 
had  been,  when,  to  our  delight,  Florence  came 
in  sight  on  the  other  side,  accompanied  by  the 
owner  of  the  oxen  and  the  oxen  themselves. 
Halting  at  the  farther  bank  she  shouted  to  us, 
but  the  voice  of  the  water  was  so  much  the 
stronger  that  we  could  not  make  out  a  word. 
Then  the  man  took  up  the  explanation  and  hal- 
looed in  a  mellow,  distinct  voice  that  seemed  to 
have  the  carrying  power  of  a  great  bell. 

"  She  wants  to  tell  you  that  she  ain't  hurt  a  bit ; 
she  jumped  out  of  the  wagon ;  I  seen  her ;  I 
come  down  here  to  help  her  acrost  the  river,  but 
she  can't  git  acrost  now  less'en  she  goes  up  to 
McCarthy's  mill,  two  miles  further  up." 


68  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Aunt  Matilda  put  her  hands  to  her  mouth  and 
screamed  across,  "  Oh,  she  can't  walk  so  far  in 
this  mud !" 

"  She  won't  have  to  walk,"  roared  our  friend, 
"  I'm  going  with  her ;  she  can  ride  one  of  the 
oxen  ;  they're  broke  to  ride,"  and  as  if  to  show 
how  little  cause  we  had  for  apprehension  on  her 
account  he  pulled  off  his  coat,  spread  it  carefully 
over  the  broad  back  of  the  nearest  ox,  said  a 
word  or  two  to  Florence,  and  then  lifted  her  to 
the  creature's  back  as  lightly  as  a  feather.  He 
then  turned  the  clumsy  team  around  on  the  back 
track,  but  paused  once  more  to  give  us  a  word 
of  cheer.  "  I  know  who  you  be ;  you're  goin' 
to  Seaton's  ranch ;  don't  you  worry  about  the 
little  girl ;  I'll  fetch  her  along  all  right,  but  it 
may  be  a  little  late ;  oxen  ain't  fast,"  As  the 
unique  steeds  with  their  long-legged  driver  be- 
side them  started  up  the  mountain  road  again, 
Florence  turned  to  wave  her  hand  to  us;  she 
was  laughing. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?"  asked  father  as  we 
rejoined  him.  "  I  saw  what  was  going  on, 


A    PERILOUS    RIDE  69 

but    I    couldn't    make    out    anything   that   he 
said." 

Aunt  Matilda  recited  what  had  taken  place 
while  Vevie,  with  a  hand  over  her  mouth, 
giggled  hysterically.  "Flossie's  going  to  ride 
a  ox !"  she  explained  as  Aunt  Matilda  concluded. 
We  who  better  appreciated  the  situation  could 
only  smile  faintly  at  the  child's  merriment.  It 
was  certainly  better  under  the  circumstances,  to 
laugh  than  to  cry,  but  I  was  in  my  heart  very 
sorry  for  poor,  proud  Florence,  making  her 
entry  on  the  scene  of  her  future  home  by  a 
detour  of  four  miles,  and  perched  upon  the  back 
of  an  ox  at  that,  if  she  came  at  all.  Wild  visions 
of  kidnapers,  of  Indians,  even  of  Mrs.  Elliot's 
wild  cowboys  flashed  through  my  mind  as  we 
again  clambered  into  the  wagon  and  started  on  at 
a  pace  slow  and  difficult  enough  to  atone  for  any 
previous  haste.  For  my  part  I  did  not  care  to 
make  haste  since  every  step  was  taking  us 
farther  and  farther  away  from  Florence,  and 
who  could  tell  into  what  danger  she  might  be 
going.  Father  presently  discovered  that  Aunt 


70  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

Matilda  was  crying  quietly  and  set  himself  to 
try  to  comfort  her.  "  Florence  will  get  around 
all  right  before  many  hours,  Mattie ;  you 
know  what  good  fellows  these  mountaineers  are ; 
they'll  take  no  end  of  trouble  to  help  a  neighbor, 
and  I  hope  our  tall  friend  is  a  neighbor  in  fact 
as  well  as  sentiment.  It's  going  to  be  a  bright 
moonlight  night,  too." 

"  Oh,  I  know  there  isn't  any  danger,"  re- 
turned Aunt  Matilda  in  a  voice  that  plainly 
betrayed  that  that  was  just  what  she  had  been 
thinking  of,  "  but  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  dread- 
fully uncomfortable  riding  on  an  ox,  anyway, 
and  Florence  isn't  used  to  riding." 

"  She  will  be  before  she  gets  through,"  father 
responded  rather  grimly,  "  and  I  don't  suppose 
that  riding  an  ox  is  any  more  uncomfortable 
than  riding  a  camel,  and,  you  know,  people 
willingly  cross  the  ocean  and  dislocate  their 
joints  for  the  sake  of  being  able  to  say  that 
they  have  bestrode  a  '  ship  of  the  desert/  " 


CHAPTER  V 

OUR   NEW   HOME 

THE  late  summer  dusk  was  struggling  with 
the  light  of  the  rising  moon  when,  wet,  weary, 
and  more  disheartened  by  the  manner  of  our 
introduction  to  San  Coulee  than  any  of  us 
would  have  admitted  at  the  time,  we  drew  up 
before  the  welcome  door  of  the  ranch  house. 
Lights  shone  in  the  windows,  an  odor  as  of  a 
warm  meal  in  process  of  preparation  was  wafted 
to  our  nostrils,  and  all  at  once,  our  world,  even 
to  Florence's  unended  adventure,  took  on  a  more 
cheerful  aspect.  Mr.  Seaton  came  hurrying  out 
to  meet  us  as  the  wagon  stopped,  and  was  pro- 
fuse in  his  expressions  of  regret  when  he  found 
what  a  moist  condition  we  were  in.  While  he 
helped  us  out  father  told  him  what  had  befallen 
Florence.  Mr.  Seaton  chuckled  : 

"  That's  all  right,  only,  of  course,  it's  a  pity 
to  put  the  young  lady  to  so  much  trouble,  but 

71 


72  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

you  needn't  feel  a  mite  uneasy  about  her  getting 
here ;  she'll  be  along  as  soon  as  Rome  can  make 
them  oxen  of  his  git  over  the  road.  He's  all 
right ;  he's  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  valley, 
and  I  ain't  gittin'  no  pay  for  sayin'  that,  'cause 
I've  got  a  purty  strong  idea  that  he  ain't  over 
'n'  above  fond  of  me." 

"It  was  fortunate  for  us  that  he  happened 
to  be  on  the  mountain,"  father  said. 

"  Yes,  it  was ;  I  saw  him  as  he  went  a-past 
here  ;  he  said  he  was  goin'  to  git  a  wagon  out- 
side and  go  down  to  Belmout  for  supplies. 
Belmont  is  the  town  nearest  us,  'round  the 
corner  of  that  high  mountain,  Mount  Kenneth, 
that  is ;  Indian  Reservation's  on  the  other  side. 
But  come  in,  come  in ;  Johnny,  here,  will  take 
care  of  the  horses,  and  supper's  all  ready."  He 
led  the  way  briskly  into  the  house — everything 
that  the  man  did  was  done  with  a  rush,  as 
though  he  were  always  bent  on  making  up  time 
that  he  had  lost  somewhere  in  his  progress 
through  life.  Sure  enough,  the  table  was  neatly 
set,  and  the  bright,  cozy  room  was  full  of  the 


OUR   NEW   HOME  73 

delicious  odors  of  the  warm  meal  that  had 
appealed  to  our  nostrils  already. 

"  Set  right  down,"  advised  Mr.  Seaton,  hos- 
pitably, "  no  use  waiting  until  everything's  cold. 
Johnny  and  me  we've  eaten  our  supper  already 
so  as  to  be  ready  to  tend  to  things  when  you  got 
here." 

"  I  think,  perhaps,  we  had  better  wait  for 
Florence,"  Aunt  Matilda  suggested  doubtfully. 

"  There  ain't  a  grain  o'  use  in  doing  that," 
insisted  our  late  guide.  "  You  would  only  be 
putting  yourselves  out  and  not  helpin'  her ;  for, 
I  tell  you,  she's  just  as  safe  to  git  here  all  right 
as  if  she  was  com  in'  on  a  special  car  that  was 
built  a  purpose  for  her."  This  was  so  re- 
assuring, and  we  were  so  hungry,  that  we  has- 
tened to  follow  his  advice  as  soon  as  we  had 
divested  ourselves  of  our  damp  garments,  while 
he  devoted  himself  to  the  task  of  helping  Johnny 
unload  what  he  designated  as  our  "  plunder." 

Johnny  was  another  surprise.  I,  at  least, 
had  somehow  imbibed  the  notion  that  our  at- 
tache was  a  bent,  timid,  retiring,  pale-faced  boy, 


74  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

and  I  was  partly  right,  but  could  not  have 
missed  the  mark  more  thoroughly  as  far  as 
physique  went.  Tall,  broad  shouldered,  straight 
as  an  arrow,  with  a  shock  of  curling,  light- 
brown  hair,  he  was  as  attractive  to  look  upon  as 
some  perfect  statue.  But,  poor  Johnny,  there 
it  ended.  There  was  no  speculation  in  those 
deep  blue  eyes,  no  emotion  betrayed  by  the  loose, 
expressionless  lips.  The  whole  effect  of  his 
personality — if  I  may  use  such  a  term  in  speak- 
ing of  him,  for  he  did  not  really  seem  to  have  a 
personality — was  saddening,  as  of  a  misfit  of 
nature ;  a  child's  mind  in  the  strong  body  of  a 
man ;  a  soul  too  small  for  its  environment  look- 
ing out  vacantly  from  a  man's  eyes.  As  we  be- 
came acquainted  with  this  helpless  waif,  who 
had  been  "  thrown  in  with  the  ranch,"  we  grew 
warmly  attached  to  him.  Never  was  a  more 
faithful,  willing,  obedient  aid  than  Johnny, 
within  his  limitations ;  his  limitations  were  the 
boundaries  of  the  lower  San  Coulee  valley.  He 
was  not  timid,  nor  forward,  but  regarded  us  at  the 
table,  as  he  passed  back  and  forth  through  the 


OUR   NEW   HOME  75 

room,  with  the  frank,  impersonal  curiosity  of 
an  untrained  child. 

Calif  did  not  like  Mr.  Seaton  ;  he  had  made 
that  manifest  ever  since  first  meeting  him,  and 
now,  feeling,  I  suppose  that  he  was  at  home  and 
so  entitled  to  an  expression  of  opinion,  he  was 
not  backward  in  expressing  it.  He  followed  the 
object  of  his  animosity  back  and  forth  and  kept 
growling  until  father  took  a  piece  of  rope  and 
tied  him  ignominiously  to  the  leg  of  the  lounge. 
Still  he  continued  to  voice  unfavorable  comments 
upon  the  alert,  little  man,  who  was  dodging 
back  and  forth  through  the  room.  Vevie's 
eyes  filled  with  tears  at  her  favorite's  disgrace, 
but  she  made  no  protest,  except  to  explain 
Calif's  behavior  to  Mr.  Seaton.  Vevie  displayed 
at  times  a  talent  for  truthfulness  little  short  of 
appalling,  added  to  which  she  credited  Calif 
with  a  degree  of  intelligence  possible  only  to 
the  illimitable  credulity  of  childhood ;  so  now 
she  stopped  Mr.  Seaton  in  one  of  his  hurried 
dashes  to  say : 

"  Calif  don't  like  you.     It  was  real  good  in 


76  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

you  to  sell  papa  this  little  house  with  a  fireplace 
in  it,  and  to  frow  our  things  into  it  so  quick — 
you've  broke  Aunt  Matilda's  cut-glass  pitcher, 
too,  that  she  thought  so  much  of,  but  I  guess 
she  won't  mind — but  I  s'pose,  maybe,  you've 
done  something  bad  some  time  and  Calif  re- 
members it.  I'll  tell  him  you're  good  now, 
anyway." 

"That's  right,  little  lady,  that's  right,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Seaton,  with  undiminished  cheerfulness,  but 
he  did  not  "  frow  "  the  next  articles  into  the  room 
with  quite  so  much  vehemence.  Oddly  enough 
Calif  had  already  signified  his  solemn  approval 
of  Johnny,  and  it  was  Johnny,  on  one  of  his 
trips  back  and  forth,  who  called  attention  to 
Vevie.  "Why  don't  you  eat?"  he  asked,  paus- 
ing before  her  and  regarding  her  with  calm  in- 
terest. For  answer  the  child  threw  up  her  arms 
and  burst  into  a  wild  fit  of  sobbing.  Father  set 
down  the  cup  that  he  was  just  raising  to  his  lips 
and  hurried  to  her  side.  "  Vevie,  child,  what 
is  the  matter  ?"  he  cried,  anxiously.  "  What 
are  you  crying  about  ?"  He  knelt  on  the  floor 


OUR   NEW    HOME  77 

by  her  side — it  was  so  strange  to  see  Vevie 
in  tears,  she  who  never  complained  and  whose 
sky  was  always  sunny,  no  matter  what  the 
weather. 

She  leaned  her  head  on  father's  shoulder,  her 
silvery,  flaxen  hair  straying  over  it  like  a  shin- 
ing mist.  "  Calif  is  hungry,  too,"  she  sobbed, 
"  and  he  is  tied  up !  He  thinks  nobody  cares 
for  him !" 

"  I'll  tie  him  here  by  you,"  father  told  her, 
"  then  he  will  know  better."  He  did  so,  and 
not  long  afterward,  supper  being  over,  I  looked 
for  Vevie  and  found  her  fast  asleep  under  the 
table  where  she  and  Calif  had  both  crept, 
her  head  pillowed  on  the  greyhound's  white 
shoulder. 

The  wagon  load  of  "  plunder  "  being  disposed 
of,  our  friend  pulled  out  an  immense  silver 
watch  and  consulted  its  face  inquiringly. 
"Time  I  was  getting  on,"  he  announced;  "I'd 
like  first-rate  to  stay  and  see  Miss  Florence 
come  in  ;  she'll  be  here  in  a  few  minutes  now, 
but  I've  got  some  ways  yet  to  go  to-night." 


78  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  Surely  you  will  stay  here,"  Aunt  Matilda 
interposed.  "  It's  late,  and  you  must  be 
tired." 

"  Not  very  late,  and  I  never  get  tired  ;  the 
horses  have  had  a  good  rest  whilst  you  was 
comin'  on,  and  we  must  be  movin'." 

"  Are  you  leaving  the  valley  soon  ?"  asked 
father. 

"  Why,  I've  left  it  already  ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  boys  have  driven  the  cattle  over  beyond 
Wind  River,  and  there's  nothing  left  to  go  but 
wife  and  I  and  a  little  plunder ;  wife  is  waiting 
for  me  at  Wilson's,  ten  miles  out ;  I'll  drive  out 
there  to-night,  and  it'll  be  so  much  of  a  start 
for  to-morrow." 

He  made  his  adieus  to  us  all ;  father  thanked 
him  warmly  for  his  services  in  our  behalf,  but 
he  did  not  offer  to  pay  him  for  coming  to  meet 
us,  a  sad  oversight,  as  it  afterward  turned  out. 
Father  took  his  coming — since  he  had  proposed 
it  himself — as  an  act  of  courtesy  which  it  would 
be  offensive  to  place  upon  a  money  basis.  He 
had  gained  the  porch  when  an  idea  seemed  to 


OUR    NEW   HOME  79 

strike  him  and  he  put  his  head  in  at  the  door 
again.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  Stanley,  I  don't  rec'- 
lect  as  we  come  to  any  agreement  about  hay  ;  I 
knew  you  would  want  some,  of  course,  so  I  took 
the  liberty  of  puttin'  a  couple  o'  tons  in  the  barn 
against  your  comin'." 

"  That  was  very  kind  and  thoughtful  in  you," 
father  assured  him.  "  How  much  does  it  come 
to?" 

"  Thirty  dollars ;  hay  is  fifteen  dollars  a 
ton." 

Father  could  not  suppress  a  start  of  surprise ; 
hay  at  that  price  would  be  as  expensive  for  us 
as  if  grown  on  the  uplands  of  Arcadia. 

"  Say,  say,  Mr.  Seaton,"  interposed  Johnny 
who  had  been  listening  open-mouthed  to  the 
conversation,  "  Seth  Jones  he  brung  that  hay 
only  yis'tday ;  he  said  he'd — " 

"  Hark  !"  cried  Seaton  with  uplifted  hand, 
"  ain't  them  horses  kickin',  Johnny  ?"  Johnny 
sprang  up  and  hurried  out  to  the  barn.  In  his 
absence  father  paid  Mr.  Seaton  the  price  that  he 
suggested  for  the  hay,  and  that  thrifty  ranch- 


80  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

man,  pocketing  the  money,  walked  out  to  where 
his  team  and  wagon  were  already  waiting, 
climbed  to  the  seat  and  with  a  final,  "Good 
night,  and  good  luck,"  disappeared.  It  was 
many  mouths  before  we  saw  him  again.  The 
sound  of  his  wagon  wheels  had  scarcely  died 
away  when  a  clear  whistle  sounded  from  the 
road  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  soon,  in  the 
patch  of  moonlight  beyond  the  gate,  Florence 
and  her  escort  came  in  view. 

"  Here  we  are,  safe  and  sound,"  cheerily 
cried  the  person  whom  Mr.  Seaton  had  desig- 
nated as  "  Rome,"  as  he  rounded  his  team 
up  before  the  gate  and  helped  Florence  to 
alight.  "  Hope  you  didn't  get  uneasy,"  he 
continued  as  we  crowded  out  on  the  porch  to 
meet  them.  "  Oxen  is  slow,  but  then  again, 
they're  safe." 

"You'll  come  in  and  have  some  supper, 
surely,"  Aunt  Matilda  cried  suddenly  as  Rome 
picked  up  his  whip  and  made  a  movement  as  if 
to  go. 

"  Not  to-night ;  you're  all  tired  enough  with- 


OUR    NEW   HOME  81 

out  settin'  out  refreshments  for  stragglers  to- 
night, I  reckon,"  and  he  stuck  to  his  resolution 
inflexibly  in  spite  of  our  protests. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  bringing  my  niece," 
Aunt  Matilda  told  him  by  way  of  further  per- 
suasion. The  handsome  giant  shook  his  head 
and  smiled. 

"Now  you're  jest  sending  me  on  my  way 
hot-footed ;  if  there's  one  thing  I  can't  stand  it's 
being  thanked." 

"  Where  will  you  go  then  ?"  asked  Florence, 
who  was  leaning  against  the  door  post,  looking 
worn  out. 

"  I'll  stop  with  Davis  to-night ;  he  keeps  the 
store  and  post-office  down  here  a  piece — but  I'll 
be  comin'  along  back  this  way  day  after  to- 
morrow, and  I'll  stop  then  and  see  how  you're 
getting  along."  He  checked  himself  again  as 
he  was  about  starting  to  speak  to  Johnny,  who 
had  been  looking  on,  lingering  respectfully  in 
the  background. 

"  How's  times,  Johnny  ?"  he  demanded  cheer- 
fully. 


82  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  They's  purty  good,"  Johnny  returned,  grin- 
ning with  pleasure. 

"  That's  right ;  take  good  care  of  these  folks, 
won't  you,  Johnny  ?" 

"  On  the  ranch  ?"  Johnny  questioned  with  a 
quick  change  of  voice. 

"  Why,  of  course  on  the  ranch ;  what  are  you 
thinking  of?" 

He  bade  us  good-night  again,  and  we  went 
with  poor  tired  Florence  into  the  house,  intent 
on  ministering  to  her  comfort,  but  the  cowboy 
who  would  not  leave  the  ranch  remained  on  the 
porch,  watching  the  oxen  and  their  driver  as 
they  went  down  the  road  in  the  moonlight. 
When  he  came  in  some  minutes  later  he  found 
a  seat  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  room  and  from 
that  unobtrusive  standpoint  made  a  startling 
observation. 

"  Seaton  lied  to  you ;  he's  the  biggest  liar  in 
Coulee ;  that  hay  cost  but  seven  dollars  a  ton  ; 
I  seen  him  pay  Seth  Jones  for  it ;  I  guess  he 
was  mad  'cause  you  didn't  pay  him  for  goin'  to 
meet  you  'stead  of  just  thankin'  him  ;  thankin' 


OUR    NEW   HOME  83 

won't  buy  no  cattle  ;  he's  buyin'  cattle.  I  like 
Koine  Beaumont.  I  wish't  he'd  a  bought  me 
and  the  ranch.  Seaton  says  I  might  be  turned 
away ;  but  Rome,  he  wouldn't  turn  me  away. 
I  most  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  ride  as  fur  as  the 
river  bridge  with  Rome  ;  he  ain't  a  coward,  he 
wouldn't  let  no  cattle  men  hurt  me."  That  was 
a  long  speech  for  silent  Johnny  to  make,  but 
our  coming  had  unconsciously  excited  him.  He 
got  up  presently  and  went  off  to  his  bed  in  the 
attic,  leaving  us  to  puzzle  over  his  words  while 
we  cared  for  Florence. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHY    MR.  SEATON   SOLD   THE    RANCH 

WITHIN  a  week  we  were  fairly  installed  in 
our  new  home,  and  ready  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  our  valley  neighbors;  but,  contrary 
to  all  our  preconceived  ideas  of  the  welcome 
extended  to  new-comers  by  the  western  people 
they  seemed  to  avoid  us  ;  not  only  that,  but  on 
the  occasions  when  we  chanced  to  encounter  any 
of  them,  as  we  often  did  in  going  to  the  store 
or  post-office,  they  seemed  disposed  to  treat  our 
advances  toward  a  more  intimate  acquaintance 
with  a  cavalier  curtness  that  bordered  on  con- 
tempt. The  settlers  were  all,  or  nearly  all, 
ignorant  and  primitive.  Except  that  our  lot 
was  cast  among  them  it  did  not  much  matter 
how  they  took  us,  but  nevertheless  it  was  any- 
thing but  pleasant  to  find  that  the  feeling 
toward  us  was  distinctly  unfriendly.  Aunt 
Matilda  and  we  two  girls  felt  it  the  more  keenly 
84 


WHY   MR.  SEATON   SOLD   THE   RANCH         85 

for  the  reason  that  we  were  again  sorely  troubled 
about  father's  health.  He  had,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  contracted  a  violent  cold  during 
that  last  exciting  afternoon  of  our  journey  and, 
unable  to  go  out  himself,  he  was  prone  to  spec- 
ulate on  the  possible  causes  of  his  isolation. 
"  I'm  pretty  sure  that  these  folks  would  like  us 
if  they'd  give  us  a  fair  trial,"  he  would  declare 
humorously,  between  spasms  of  coughing.  But 
they  never  gave  us  a  trial ;  and  we  were  let  se- 
verely alone  by  nearly  all  save  Rome  Beaumont, 
who  proved  himself  so  true  a  friend  that  I  know 
we  never  could  have  done  what  we  did  but  for 
the  aid  and  counsel  that  he  furnished.  Johnny 
was  a  great  help,  too,  although  it  certainly  was 
inconvenient  at  times  that  he  could  not  be  in- 
duced even  to  drive  to  the  store  or  to  a  neighbor's 
to  do  an  errand.  He  took  care  of  the  horses 
and  was  always  ready  to  harness  or  saddle  them 
for  our  use;  never  by  any  chance  for  his  own. 
The  horses  were  turned  into  a  pasture  near 
the  house,  so  that  we  were  not  obliged  to  con- 
sider ourselves  extravagant  in  keeping  four 


86  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

of  them,  although  to  keep  one,  with  hay  at 
fifteen  dollars  a  ton,  had  at  first  appeared  too 
great  a  luxury  for  our  limited  means. 

There  was  enough  money  still  in  hand  to  pay 
our  way  until  the  first  shearing  of  the  sheep, 
when  we  hoped  to  realize  enough  from  the  "clip  " 
as  it  was  called,  to  make  the  next  quarterly  pay- 
ment on  the  ranch  and  flock.  Florence  and  I 
fully  understood  just  how  matters  stood  with 
regard  to  the  ranch  and  the  way  in  which  it  was 
to  be  paid  for,  and  it  troubled  our  young  heads 
not  a  little.  Father  sometimes  complained  that 
so  much  business  worry  would  cause  us  to  grow 
old  before  our  time,  and,  lamenting  the  failure 
of  the  incombustible  wood  invention,  said  he  was 
a  useless  log,  weighing  his  children  down  with 
cares  that  did  not  belong  to  their  age,  but  these 
dark  moods  were  too  foreign  to  his  sunny  nature 
to  be  of  long  duration.  As  for  Aunt  Matilda, 
she  averred  that  the  youth  or  maid  did  not  exist 
who  had  ever  been  injured  in  health  or  spirits 
by  taking  too  much  care  for  others,  or  for  the 
future.  "Young  folks  are  selfish,"  she  pro- 


WHY  MR.  SEATON   SOLD   THE   RANCH         87 

claimed  oracularly.  "Look  at  the  unconcern 
with  which  a  young  girl — more  especially  if  she's 
pretty  and  knows  it,  as  they  mostly  do — or  a 
young  man,  will  remain  idle  and  see  careworn 
father  or  mother  attend  to  the  thousand  and  one 
little  duties  that  could  just  as  well,  indeed  better, 
be  laid  upon  younger  shoulders.  They  do  not 
seem  to  realize  until  old  age  and  feebleness  have 
come  palpably  upon  them  that  it  is  possible  for 
their  parents  to  become  tired.  The  common 
excuse  is  that  youth  should  have  its  fling ;  but 
since  the  fling  can  last  but  a  short  time  at  the 
best,  it  would  be  wiser  to  provide  something  else 
while  youth  is  passing,  instead  of  after  it  has 
passed,  as  is  the  usual  way ;  a  little  business 
discipline  will  not  hurt  our  girls,  Hugh." 

"  A  little.  No,  Mattie,  what  I  am  afraid  of 
is  that  they  will  get  too  much." 

"  If  we  do,"  was  my  mental  resolution,  "  you 
shall  never  hear  of  it  from  me." 

Rome,  who  was  working  something  that  he 
denominated  "  a  prospect,"  somewhere  up  above 
us  in  the  mountains,  was  a  pretty  frequent 


88  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

visitor  to  the  cottage  from  the  first,  and  it  was 
on  his  advice  that  Florence  and  I  began  to  take 
lessons  in  riding  almost  at  once. 

"  You've  got  three  good  saddle  horses,"  he 
informed  us  on  his  second  visit.  "I  don't  go 
much  on  that  yellow  broncho,  but  the  others  are 
good,  'specially  the  one  that  you  call  Luck — " 

Whereat,  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  showed  my 
ignorance  of  horseflesh  by  laughing.  "  Why, 
Mr.  Beaumont,  he's  the  homeliest  one  of  the 
lot!" 

Rome  smiled  wisely.  "  Handsome  is  that 
handsome  does,  they  used  to  tell  me  when  I  was 
a  boy  and  inclined  to  envy  others  their  good 
looks" — he  must  have  been  awfully  conceited 
if  he  wanted  to  be  handsomer — was  my  secret 
thought,  while  he  went  on :  "  Luck  is  an  odd 
name,  too — " 

"  There's  luck  in  odd  numbers,  says  Rory 
O'More!"  sang  Florence,  who  was  listening. 
"  He  looks  so  different  from  the  others  that  he 
seemed  an  odd  number,  so  we  took  Mr.  O'More's 
word  for  it  that  he  should  be  called  Luck." 


WHY   MR.  SEATON   SOLD   THE   RANCH         89 

"  Well,  it's  a  good  name  and  you  was  in  luck 
to  get  him,  because  even  if  he  is  an  odd  number 
you'll  find  that  he  ain't  a  back  number  like  the 
buckskin." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  asked  Florence  with  a 
saucy  smile. 

"  How  do  I  know  ?"  Rome  scratched  his  head. 
"  See  here,  Miss  Florence,  you've  seen  folks  that 
show,  without  ever  speaking  one  word,  that 
there's  something  uncommon  in  'em  ;  it  shows 
in  their  faces  ;  it  kind  of  lights  'em  up ;  I  s'pose 
likely  it's  what  folks  mean  when  they  speak 
of  anybody's  having  expression.  Why,  your 
father,  now,  he's  just  that  kind  of  a  man ;  and 
Luck,  he's  that  kind  of  a  horse.  You  girls 
want  to  pick  out  your  horses  and  always  ride 
the  same  ones  ;  then  you'll  know  each  other. 
The  time  may  come  when — well,  you  better 
learn  to  be  good  riders  soon's  you  can.  Johnny 
can  teach  you  all  you  want  to  know  a  plumb 
sight  better  than  a  fancy  riding  master  could. 
I  can  rec'lect  when  there  wasn't  a  better  rider 
in  all  the  Coulee  country  than  Johnny  was." 


90  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  Has  he  no  name  but  Johnny  ?"  asked  Flor- 
ence, indifferently;  she  was  not  greatly  inter- 
ested in  our  cowboy. 

"  Yes  ;  his  name's  John  Alton,  but  the  whole 
valley  knows  him  as  Johnny,  now." 

"  How  long  has  it  been  since  he  became  as  he 
is?"  I  inquired,  but  Rome  did  not  appear  to 
hear  the  question.  He  urged  us  again  to  lose 
no  time  in  learning  to  ride,  and  not  long  after 
took  his  departure.  I  do  not  think  that  I  am 
at  all  given  to  suspicion,  but  I  was  positive  in 
my  own  mind  that  there  was  some  powerful 
reason,  and  one  that  he  did  not  wish  to  disclose, 
for  wishing  us  to  learn  to  ride,  and,  as  he  said, 
lose  no  time  in  doing  so.  We  had  been  nearly 
two  weeks  in  Sail  Coulee,  and,  riding  every  day, 
were  already  fairly  good  riders,  when  I  found 
out  what  that  reason  was. 

Our  flock  of  three  thousand  sheep  we  had  not 
yet  seen,  owing  partly  to  father's  illness  and 
partly  to  the  fact  that  we  did  not  yet  feel  quite 
confidence  enough  in  our  equestrian  powers  to 
visit  them.  The  flock  was  in  the  upper  San 


WHY    MR.  SEATON   SOLD    THE   RANCH         91 

Coulee  valley,  a  small,  mountain- walled  basin 
of  limited  area,  in  charge  of  two  Mexican  herders 
and  the  sheep  dog,  Felix.  Our  cottage  lay  con- 
veniently in  Rome's  way  as  he  made  his  semi- 
weekly  journeys  to  the  store.  It  was  while  on 
his  way  back  from  the  store  that  he  stopped  one 
Saturday  evening  to  inquire  for  father.  As  he 
had  already  stopped  when  going  down,  his 
solicitude  appeared  rather  marked.  He  sat  and 
talked  with  father  awhile  and  then  took  leave 
of  him,  but  on  his  way  to  the  door  he  made  a 
slight  beckoning  gesture  to  Aunt  Matilda,  who, 
being  quick  witted,  readily  understood  that  he 
wished  to  speak  with  her  where  father  could  not 
hear  what  was  said.  She  nodded  for  me  to  come, 
and  making  an  excuse  that  we  wished  to  walk 
a  little  way  with  Mr.  Beaumont,  we  stepped  out 
into  the  soft,  spring  night.  Rome  led  the  way 
to  the  bench  under  the  big  pine,  a  few  yards 
from  the  house,  and  while  aunt  and  I  sat  down 
he  stood  with  one  hand  upon  the  rough  bole  of 
the  tree. 

"  Miss  Stanley,"  he  began,  "  it's  got  to  that 


92  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

pass  that  I  feel  jest  plumb  compelled  to  ask  you 
a  few  questions.  I  been  a  telling  myself  all 
along  that  it  ain't  none  o'  my  business,  but — I 
guess  it  is.  Here  you  be,  three  women  folks 
and  a  baby,  so  to  speak,  with  a  sick  man  on 
your  hands.  Well,  I  don't  suppose  you  would 
want  to  worry  that  sick  man  ?"  he  added,  inter- 
rogatively. 

"  No,"  returned  Aunt  Matilda,  decidedly. 

"  No ;  I  didn't  suppose  you  would ;  'twouldn't 
do  no  good  and  might  hurt  him.  Besides, 
you've  got  me  to  help  you.  I'm  going  to  help 
you,  come  what  may."  There  was  a  thrill  in 
the  man's  voice,  a  wild  energy  as  if  he  defied 
some  danger.  He  went  on  hastily,  evidently 
fearing  that  his  earnestness  might  have  alarmed 
us.  "  Now  the  question  I  want  to  ask  is  this  : 
When  Abel  Seaton  sold  you  this  ranch  and  the 
sheep,  did  he  say  anything,  did  he  let  on  in 
anyway,  that  there  was  like  to  be  trouble  in 
store  for  you?" 

"Trouble!"  echoed  Aunt  Matilda.  "No, 
certainly  not ;  what  trouble  could  there  be  ?" 


WHY   MR.  SEATON   SOLD   THE    RANCH         93 

"  There  could  be — and  is — a  good  deal ;  and 
an  almighty  mean  man  Seaton  is  to  entrap  a  lot 
of  women  and  a  sick  man  into  such  a  hornets' 
nest  as  a  sheep  ranch  in  San  Coulee  is  now ;  but 
he  wanted  to  sell  and  he  ain't  the  man  to  lose  a 
good  trade  for  want  of  keeping  his  mouth  shut, 
I'll  say  that  for  him.  Well,  to  cut  the  matter 
short,  the  sheep  business  ain't  exactly  pop'lar 
in  San  Coulee ;  it's  so  unpop'lar,  in  fact,  that 
Seaton  would  a  pretty  nigh  given  his  flock  to 
any  one  that  would  take  it  a  couple  o'  months 
ago.  Since  then  he  has  been  a  holding  off, 
making  excuses  and  promising  to  run  the  stock 
out,  or  that  he  wouldn't  own  a  head  of  sheep 
inside  of  thirty  days  if  they'd  only  give  him 
time  to  turn  around.  They  gave  what  he  asked 
for  because  it  was  Seaton  and  he's  a  dangerous 
man  to  offend.  He  turned  'round  by  dumping 
his  stock  onto  you." 

"  I  don't  understand  you ;  whom  did  he 
promise  ?  Why  is  sheep  ranching  so  unpopu- 
lar?" 

"  He   promised  the  cattlemen ;  the  rustlers, 


94  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

who  claim  to  run  this  part  of  the  country. 
They've  sworn  that  they  won't  allow  anybody 
this  side  of  Wyoming  to  keep  sheep,  if  they  can 
help  it,  and  I  reckon  they  can." 

"  How  ?"  demanded  Aunt  Matilda  with  spirit. 

"  How  ?  With  shotguns,  with  stripes,  with 
fire;  sometimes  with  death,"  was  the  solemn 
answer.  In  the  pause  that  followed,  the  voice 
of  the  river,  less  turbulent  now  than  when  we 
had  first  heard  it,  arose  in  a  swelling  murmur 
above  the  low  music  of  the  pines.  In  the  open 
doorway  of  the  cottage  Johnny's  figure  ap- 
peared ;  he  was  looking  inquiringly  in  our 
direction.  "  Johnny's  always  uneasy  if  every- 
body that  he's  interested  in  isn't  safe  under 
shelter  when  night-time  comes,"  observed  Rome, 
folding  his  arms  and  leaning  against  the  trunk 
of  the  pine  tree.  "  I  reckon  maybe  this  is  a 
good  time  to  tell  you  how  he  came  to  be  what 
he  is  now.  As  the  preachers  say  it  will  serve 
to  illustrate  my  text.  It  was  five  years  ago, 
come  fall,  that  the  cattlemen  got  on  a  tear 
similar  to  what  they're  getting  on  now,  and 


WHY   MR.  SEATON   SOLD   THE   KANCH         95 

made  proclamation  that  there  should  be  no 
sheep  in  San  Coulee.  The  sheep  men  were 
mostly  Mexicans  then  and  easy  to  handle  be- 
cause they  were  afraid  of  the  white  men.  So 
they  readily  agreed  to  make  themselves  scarce  ; 
and  they  did,  in  short  order. 

"  The  leader  of  the  anti-sheep  movement — 
he'd  been  elected  sheriff  of  the  county  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  work  out  the  will  of  the  cattle- 
men— made  his  boast  that  within  ten  days  from 
the  time  that  he  took  the  oath  of  office  there 
wasn't  but  one  sheep  ranch  left  in  the  county  ; 
that  one  was  the  one  that  you  have  bought.  It 
belonged  then  to  Ralph  Alton,  Johnny's  father. 
The  leader  then  declared  that  within  ten  days 
more  even  this  one  wouldn't  be  left.  And  he 
kept  his  word.  Alton  was  a  determined  kind  of 
man.  He  got  his  title  to  the  lower  valley  from 
the  government;  took  it  up  as  a  homestead 
claim.  The  upper  valley,  where  your  sheep 
are  now,  is,  as  you  prob'ly  know,  leased  school 
lands.  Alton  leased  it  to  begin  with  and  Seaton 
has  had  it  since.  Well,  the  '  Regulators/  as 


96  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

the  sheriff's  posse  called  themselves,  called  on 
Alton  and  told  him  he  might  have  just  twenty- 
four  hours  in  which  to  get  out  of  Coulee.  You 
see  he  had  put  all  he  had  and  the  labor  of 
five  years  into  the  ranch  ;  to  leave  meant  finan- 
cial ruin  ;  to  stay,  as  it  turned  out,  meant  death. 
Alton  stayed ;  he  paid  no  attention  to  their 
notice. 

"  The  next  day  he  and  Johnny  were  up  in  the 
upper  valley  watching  the  sheep  as  usual,  when 
a  score  or  more  of  masked  men  suddenly  dashed 
out  from  the  shelter  of  the  rocks  and  yelling 
and  firing  off  their  guns,  charged  on  the  sheep. 
They  brought  on  a  wicked  stampede.  The 
sheep  fairly  ran  and  piled  over  each  other  in 
their  eagerness  to  get  away ;  lots  of  them  were 
killed  in  that  way.  Alton  stood  in  the  natural 
gateway  that  blocks  the  lower  entrance  to  the 
valley  and  tried  to  stop  them,  and  Johnny,  up 
on  the  hillside  with  his  dog,  did  his  best  to  help. 
Maybe  the  Regulators  were  angry  because  they 
did  that;  they  might  a'  took  it  as  a  kind  of 
defiance.  Anyway,  they  shot  Alton.  Then,  as 


WHY   MR.  SEATON   SOLD    THE   RANCH         97 

they  stood  over  his  father's  body  they  ordered 
Johnny  to  come  to  them.  He  came,  and  there 
not  two  feet  from  the  poor  fellow,  who  would 
have  died  a  second  time  before  he  would  have 
seen  his  son  hurt,  they  stripped  Johnny  and 
beat  him  unmercifully.  Then  they  made  him 
kneel  down  by  his  father's  body  and  swear  that 
he  would  never  again  set  foot  outside  of  San 
Coulee  ranch,  as  his  father's  place  was  called ; 
and  he  never  has.  He  was  sick  for  a  long  time 
after  that  day's  bad  business ;  he  was  the  only 
child ;  his  mother  sold  the  ranch  to  Seaton, 
thinking  that  new  scenes  and  experiences  would 
maybe  bring  Johnny  around  again  ;  but  nothing 
short  of  force  could  get  him  off  the  ranch.  The 
doctor  that  Mrs.  Alton  consulted  said  that  he'd 
go  raving  mad  if  she  persisted  in  trying  to  get 
him  away,  so — there  he  is !  Mrs.  Alton  died, 
broken-hearted,  in  less  than  a  year  after  they 
killed  Ralph." 

"  What  became  of  the  sheep  ?"  I  asked. 

"  The  sheep  ?  Oh,  they  were  scattered  to  the 
four  winds ;  mutton  was  cheap  all  over  the 
7 


98  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

country  for  some  time  after.  Every  one  was 
free  to  kill  a  sheep  wherever  he  came  across  it ; 
nobody'd  dare  lay  claim  to  a  herd  of  sheep 
that  the  Regulators  had  stampeded." 

"  How  came  it  that  Mr.  Seaton  engaged  in 
the  business  if  it  is  so  dangerous  ?"  asked  Aunt 
Matilda. 

"  He  didn't  for  a  year  or  two ;  but  then  came 
a  season  or  two  when  wool  was  uncommon 
profitable,  and  he  chanced  it  because  the  feel- 
ing in  regard  to  it  had  died  down  a  good  deal. 
I  reckon  more  than  one  of  the  Regulators  had 
to  tussle  hard  with  their  consciences  to  make 
what  they  had  done  to  Johnny  and  his  folks 
seem  right.  Anyway,  not  much  objection  was 
raised  to  Seaton's  bringing  in  a  flock,  until 
within  the  past  year,  when  the  old  trouble  began 
to  sizzle  again." 

"  But — why  is  it  ?  I  don't  understand,"  said 
Aunt  Matilda. 

"  Why  ?  The  cattlemen  want  the  range  for 
their  cattle  ;  cattle  raising  is  more  profitable  than 
sheep  raising." 


WHY   MR.  SEATON   SOLD    THE   RANCH         99 

"  But  surely,  surely,  there  is  room  for  both !" 

"  No,  begging  your  pardon,  there  ain't.  Cattle 
can't  live  on  a  range  that  sheep  have  grazed 
over ;  sheep  are  mighty  destructive  to  grass,  they 
will  eat  it  clean  down  to  the  roots  and  kill  it 
out ;  sheep  can  live  after  cattle  all  right,  but  not 
cattle  after  sheep." 

"  But  the  sheep  are  now  on  ground  that  be- 
longs to  us,"  said  Aunt  Matilda. 

"  Yes ;  and  mighty  hard  on  'em  it  is  to  be 
kept  penned  up  in  that  bare  little  upper  Coulee 
valley.  Seaton  never  would  have  allowed  it  so 
long  if  he  had  not  been  holding  'em  to  sell." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  there  is  nothing  for  them 
to  eat  in  that  valley  ?" 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  mean." 

"  But  Mr.  Seaton  said  that  the  two  Mexican 
herders  who  have  the  flock  in  charge  would  see 
that  they  had  good  grazing  ground." 

"Most  times  they  would;  now  they  are 
afraid,  so  they  hold  them  where,  in  case  of  an 
attack,  they  themselves  can  escape  among  the 
rocks." 


100  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Aunt  Matilda  stood  up.  "  I  must  think  this 
over,"  she  said. 

"It'll  bear  thinking  over.  You  see,  I 
wouldn't  have  told  you  all  this  without  good 
reason  ;  I  heard  something  at  the  store — there's 
some  move  on  foot,  I  don't  know  just  what — but 
I  do  know  that  I  wish  you  hadn't  bought  a  sheep 
ranch  in  a  cattle  country.  There's  Mr.  Stanley 
calling  and  I  must  be  going." 

Aunt  Matilda  took  his  hand;  her  face  was 
very  white  in  the  moonlight.  "  I  know  you 
will  be  our  friend ;  but  I  don't  want  you  to  put 
yourself  into  danger  on  our  account." 

The  stalwart  miner  held  her  hand  closely  in 
his  for  a  moment,  looking  down  into  her  face, 
and  as  he  replied  the  very  air  seemed  charged 
with  his  earnestness.  "  I  shall  put  myself  into 
death  on  your  account — if — I  choose."  In  an- 
other moment  he  was  gone,  striding  away  in  the 
moonlit  shadows  of  the  trail. 

"  I  do  not  believe  life  in  San  Coulee  will  be 
very  monotonous,"  said  Aunt  Matilda,  grimly, 
as  we  returned  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   CHANGE   OF   OPINION 

IT  was  a  good  thing  for  us  and  our  future 
prospects  that  Aunt  Matilda  had  always  been 
consistent  in  her  idea  that  young  people  should 
learn  to  carry  their  share  of  the  burdens  of  life 
in  the  days  of  their  youth.  If  she  and  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  a  less  heroic  attitude  we 
might  have  been  staggered  by  the  problem  pre- 
sented by  Home  Beaumont's  communication, 
but  to  neither  of  us  did  the  notion  of  selling  off 
the  sheep  appeal  favorably,  as  we  looked  to 
them  for  a  means  of  paying  off  our  indebtedness 
to  their  former  owner.  Our  courage,  as  is  so 
often  the  case,  rose  to  the  occasion.  Selling  the 
sheep — when  their  new  owners  would  drive  them 
farther  south  where  sheep  ranching  was  a  less 
dangerous  occupation — was  what  Rome  anx- 
iously advised  in  an  interview  that  we  had  with 

101 


102  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

him  a  few  days  after  he  first  told  us  of  the  dan- 
ger in  which  we  stood. 

"  No,"  Aunt  Matilda  told  him,  "  I  shall  not 
do  that ;  Elsie  and  I  have  talked  it  over.  Try 
to  think,  rather,  how  best  we  can  keep  them. 
You  don't  understand  our  situation,  Mr.  Beau- 
mont ;  to  lose  them,  to  part  with  them  at  all, 
would  mean  simply  ruin  for  us.  We  have  put 
all  we  possessed  in  the  world — my  brother  and 
I — into  this  sheep  ranch.  We  shall  be  home- 
less if  this  place  goes  back  to  Mr.  Seaton  again, 
as  it  must  if  we  do  not  realize  something  from 
the  sheep." 

"  That's  settled  then.  But  I'm  terribly  afraid 
you  will  be  obliged  to  part  with  them,  whether 
or  no.  There  ain't  a  better  shepherd  in  all 
Montana  than  old  Antonio  Martinez,  who,  with 
his  son,  Jose,  has  charge  of  your  flock,  and  he 
scents  danger  or  he  wouldn't  keep  the  flock 
where  the  only  thing  that  there's  plenty  of  is 
water.  Oh,  Seaton  knew  what  he  was  about 
when  he  slid  out  of  the  valley  like  a  scared 
coyote.  He  was  fleeing  from  the  wrath  to  come, 


A   CHANGE   OF   OPINION  103 

and  I'm  afraid  that's  what  the  Mexicans  will  do. 
When  they  are  afraid  to  keep  sheep  on  their 
own  account  they  won't  be  apt  to  tend  any  one's 
flock  long  for  wages." 

"  We  must  hope  for  the  best,"  returned  Aunt 
Matilda,  firmly,  "and  whatever  happens,  Mr. 
Beaumont,  we  must  keep  this  trouble  from  my 
brother ;  he's  more  apprehensive  for  the  girls 
than  I  am.  I  know  what  stuff  they  are  made  of, 
and  what  they — or  what  Elsie,  at  least,  can  do 
— if  worst  comes  to  worst." 

"  I  heard  when  I  was  down  at  the  store  last 
night  that  you  folks  had  been  over  to  see  Roy 
Jones's  wife,"  remarked  Rome  with  seeming 
irrelevance. 

"  Why,  yes !  She's  very  sick,  poor  thing, 
and  no  one  but  her  husband  to  care  for  her. 
He  seems  very  fond  of  her,  and  does  his  best, 
but  that  isn't  any  too  good  when  a  woman  is  as 
sick  as  she  is ;  she  was  so  glad  to  see  Florence 
and  me.  She'd  heard  some  way  of  Florence's 
singing — curious  how  much  the  people  seem  to 
know  about  us  when  we  know  so  little  about 


104  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

them,"  Aunt  Matilda  added  in  parenthesis, 
"  and  wanted  to  hear  her.  Florence  sang  '  My 
old  Kentucky  home,'  and  then  '  Nearer  my  God 
to  Thee,'  and  Mrs.  Jones  just  laid  there  and 
cried,  poor  thing !" 

Rome  chuckled.     "  Was  Roy  Jones  there  ?" 

"Yes;  I  am  bound  to  say  that  his  manner 
was  far  less  cordial  than  that  of  his  wife ;  but 
he  was  present,  and  was  civil,  at  least." 

We  were  sitting  in  the  house ;  father  and 
Vevie  being  out  for  a  stroll.  "  I  ain't  asking 
very  many  questions  nor  calling  any  names," 
Rome  said,  eying  the  toe  of  his  old,  worn  boot 
attentively,  "  but  I  am  bound  to  say  that  the 
credit  of  bearding  the  lion  in  his  den  belongs  to 
Miss  Florence.  I  hope  that  Mrs.  Jones's  sick- 
ness may  continue  until  after  we  harvest  the 
clip.  And  if  you  are  sensible  you'll  keep  on 
visiting  Mrs.  Jones,  and  keep  up  the  singing." 

After  Rome  was  gone  that  morning  Aunt 
Matilda  said,  "Come,  Elsie,  let's  go  out  and 
join  Hugh  and  Vevie.  I  feel  as  though  some- 
thing would  happen  before  long  and  I  want  to 


A  CHANGE  OF   OPINION  105 

get  acquainted  with  our  surroundings  before 
it  comes.  While  we  are  out  I  shall  stop  to 
investigate  every  anthill  and  bit  of  clay  that 
Hugh  gets  his  eyes  on,  so  you  know  we  won't 
get  tired  from  too  long  a  walk." 

Aunt  Matilda  was  a  model  housekeeper,  and 
it  was  quite  unusual  for  her  to  propose  such  a 
thing  as  leaving  the  house  while  the  unwashed 
breakfast  dishes  remained  on  the  table,  as  they 
did  at  that  moment.  I  gladly  accompanied  her, 
and  we  spent  a  pleasant  hour  in  wandering  up 
and  down  the  river  bank  with  father  and  Vevie. 
It  was  so  bright  and  pleasant  out-of-doors  that 
the  unknown  danger  threatening  us  seemed  for 
the  time  being  scarcely  more  than  some  wild 
dream. 

We  all  returned  to  the  house  together,  where, 
to  our  surprise,  we  found  Florence  busily  en- 
gaged in  washing  the  breakfast  things.  We  had 
left  her  swinging  comfortably  in  the  hammock 
under  the  big  pine,  and  she  had  declined  to  ac- 
company us  on  the  ground  of  weariness.  Now, 
Aunt  Matilda  believes  in  young  people  fitting 


106  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

themselves  for  the  exercise  of  their  own  especial 
gifts — if  they  have  any.  Florence's  gift  re- 
quires a  light  touch  and  a  dainty  hand,  hence 
it  had  come  to  be  an  unwritten  law  of  the  family 
that  she  was  never  to  be  called  upon  to  do  any 
work  that  would  blemish  those  useful  members, 
so  Aunt  Matilda  at  once  entered  a  protest : 
"Now  why  do  you  do  that?"  she  exclaimed,  at- 
tempting to  take  the  dish-towel  from  Florence, 
who  laughingly  resisted.  "  You'll  spoil  your 
hands,"  Aunt  Matilda  continued. 

Florence  clung  to  the  towel  with  one  hand, 
lifting  the  other  reddened  member  from  the 
water,  gazed  at  it  contemplatively :  "  Those 
hands,  those  little,  little  parboiled  hands.  Is 
there  not  cold  water  enough  in  San  Coulee  to 
make  them  white  again  ?"  she  cried  tragically ; 
then,  plunging  her  hands  again  into  the  water 
and  continuing  her  task  briskly,  she  continued 
more  earnestly,  "  Aunt  Matilda,  I've  had  a  rev- 
elation. It  came  to  me  partly  through  Mr. 
Rome's  talk — not  by  it,  but  through  it  like  sun- 
light through  a  rift  in  the  clouds — and  partly 


A  CHANGE   OF   OPINION  107 

because  the  mountains  are  so  great  and  I  am  so 
little.  While  I  was  journeying  to  this  valley  of 
blessing  on  the  back  of  his  ox,  the  revelation 
made  itself  clear ;  it  ran  something  like  this : 
' Florence,  you  have  always  insisted  on  having 
the  rough  places  made  smooth  to  your  feet  before 
you  would  go  forth ;  you  have  thrown  away 
golden  opportunities  for  improvement  rather 
than  yield  an  inch  of  your  own  ignorant,  stiff- 
necked  pride ;  you  have  taken  the  cream  of 
daily  life  and  left  to  the  unselfish  ones  the  skim 
milk.  It  has  become  customary  in  your  family 
to  give  up  the  best  of  everything  to  you  because 
the  poor  creatures  have  deluded  themselves  into 
the  idea  that  you  are  a  genius.  In  other  words," 
she  continued,  seizing  the  skillet  and  plunging 
it  vigorously  into  the  water — though  she  ought 
to  have  washed  the  coffee  cups  first — "  my  sel- 
fishness, my  laziness,  my  general  worthlessness, 
have  all  been  condoned,  excused, forgiven, because 
you  are  all  so  good  and  have  a  faith  in  me  that 
no  act  of  mine  has  ever  justified.  I  don't  be- 
lieve— hand  me  the  glasses,  Vevie,  dear — ,"  and 


108  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

she  did  wash  the  glasses,  after  the  skillet,  while 
Aunt  Matilda  shuddered  but  said  nothing — 
"  that  I'd  ever  have  waked  up  enough  to  realize 
it  all  if  we  had  stayed  in  the  East.  It  has  been 
coming  to  me,  bit  by  bit,  ever  since  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  mountains ;  there's  something  up- 
lifting about  them.  One  is  ashamed  to  be  small 
and  self-seeking  and  vain  in  their  presence.  I'd 
hate  to  have  that  monarch,"  she  waved  one  red- 
dened hand  toward  the  white  peak  gleaming 
against  the  eastern  sky — "  see  me  making  cari- 
catures of  him  in  the  holy  name  of  art,  while 
my  tired  Aunt  Matilda  and  quiet,  uncomplaining 
Elsie  drudged  away  at  the  housework.  I  think 
I  have  it  in  me  to  become  a  capable  housemaid, 
and  I  shall  confine  my  ambition  to  that  here- 
after." She  concluded  with  a  flourish  of  the 
dish-towel,  but,  for  all  that,  so  much  in  earnest 
that  there  were  tears  in  her  bright  eyes.  Father, 
who  seldom  pays  any  heed  to  our  household  talk, 
had  been  listening  intently  to  her  words.  Now 
he  spoke,  and  with  as  much  earnestness  as  she 
herself  had  shown : 


A   CHANGE   OF   OPINION  109 

"Florence,  do  not  make  the  fatal  mistake 
of  attempting  to  subordinate  your  own  espe- 
cial talents  to  the  unceasing  petty  demands 
of  daily  life.  You  may  have  been  selfish, 
as  you  say ;  selfishness  is  a  common  fault 
of  youth ;  you  have,  perhaps,  allowed  bur- 
dens that  you  should  have  helped  to  carry  to 
fall  heavily  upon  other  more  yielding  should- 
ers, and  you  have  turned  in  distrust  from  the 
things  that  belong  especially  to  you,  things 
that  you  can  do  more  than  well,  that  with 
a  little  conscientious  effort  you  might  become 
pre-eminent  in.  And  why  ?  Just  because  you 
could  not,  at  a  bound,  do  what  those  who  at- 
tempted to  instruct  you,  only  acquired  the  skill 
to  do  by  long  and  patient  practice.  You  have 
not  had  the  courage  and  perseverance  to  attempt 
to  reach  your  own  high  ideal.  For  that  I  blame 
you,  and  for  nothing  else.  The  monotonous 
round  of  household  tasks  that  you  now  claim 
shall  be  the  goal  of  your  ambition,  can  be  done 
just  as  well  by  other  hands  ;  will  be  done,  next 
week,  next  year,  a  century  hence  when  we  are 


110  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

all  in  our  graves ;  and  that  you  have  done  them 
once  will  be  of  no  more  moment  than  that  last 
summer  a  vagrant  wind  played  among  our  pine 
trees.  But  the  picture  that  you  might  paint, 
the  song  that  your  voice  might  give  to  the  world 
may  be  an  inspiration,  an  incentive  to  a  better 
life  long  after  we  have  moldered  into  dust.  A 
strain  of  music,  a  beautiful  picture,  may  become 
the  ministers  of  consolation  that  will  lift  a 
stricken  heart  as  high  as  heaven.  You  might, 
from  your  new  standpoint,  say  with  equal  justice 
that  we  are  selfish  since  we  have  always  done  all 
in  our  power  to  encourage  you,  to  leave  you  free 
for  the  exercise  of  your  beautiful  gifts  ;  our  sel- 
fishness consisted  in  the  expectation  that  we 
would  be  entertained  and  cheered  by  them.  I 
do  not  undervalue  those  small  necessary  house- 
hold tasks,  which,  if  left  undone,  would  render 
us  all  miserable.  You  do  not  decry  painting ; 
you  do  not,  as  I  have  heard  you  claim,  murder 
music,  but  you  do  do  both  when  you  say  that  you 
will  give  them  up  in  order  to — " 

"  I'll   do  both,  papa,"  interrupted  Florence, 


4   CHANGE   OF   OPINION  111 

earnestly.  "  I'll  be  a  good,  helpful  girl  and  a 
faithful  student,  too,  you  see  if  I  don't." 

"  As  for  giving  up  your  music,"  put  in  Aunt 
Matilda,  briskly,  as  she  possessed  herself  of  the 
dish-towel.  "  You  can't  do  that ;  not  while  Mrs. 
Jones  is  sick ;  Mr.  Beaumont  makes  it  a  point 
that  you  shall  sing  to  her  often." 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Florence. 

"  He  didn't  say  why ;  I  suppose  he  has  his 
reasons."  And  I,  recalling  Rome's  chuckle, 
remembered  at  the  same  time  the  old  saying 
anent  the  power  of  music  over  the  savage  breast. 

Father,  smiling  at  Florence's  vehemence,  took 
up  a  book  and  was  soon  lost  to  all  outward  im- 
pressions ;  but  Aunt  Matilda  presently  remarked 
to  me  in  a  kind  of  glorified  aside  : 

"  I  doubt  if  our  venture  will  prove  an  entire 
failure,  Elsie,  even  if  the  sheep  ranch  does  dis- 
appoint us." 


CHAPTER  VIH 

A  VISIT    FROM    THE    MEXICAN   SHEPHERDS 

THE  book  that  father  was  poring  over  was  an 
old  botany.  He  had  found  a  very  curious  flower 
during  our  walk,  and  was  intent  on  classifying 
it.  It  was  a  beautiful  blossom,  not  unlike  a  day 
lily  in  structure  and  odor,  but  very  much 
smaller;  and,  if  possible,  of  a  more  pearly 
whiteness.  The  flower  springs  directly  from 
the  sod,  dispensing  with  the  usual  accessories 
of  stem  and  leaf.  Seeing  him  so  absorbed  in 
his  congenial  task  I  was  thankful  enough  that 
only  Aunt  Matilda  and  I  knew  why  poor 
Johnny  Alton's  intellect  had  not  kept  pace  with 
his  bodily  growth,  and  that  it  was  on  our  hearts 
alone  that  the  thought  of  the  sheep  starving  in 
the  upper  valley  rested  so  heavily ;  for,  in  spite 
of  all  Aunt  Matilda's  devices  to  cheat  herself 
into  cheerfulness,  we  thought  of  little  else. 
Along  in  the  forenoon,  while  Florence  was 
112 


A  VISIT    FROM   THE   SHEPHERDS  113 

devising  some  picture  canvases,  and  Vevie  was 
seriously  engaged  in  helping  father  to  dissect 
the  new  flower,  she  said  to  me : 

"  Do  you  remember,  Elsie,  Rome  said  that  we 
could  get  a  glimpse  of  that  valley  and  probably 
of  the  sheep  if  we  cared  to  climb  to  the  top  of 
that  low  mountain  north  of  us.  '  Top  of  the 
hogback,'  he  called  it.  I've  been  thinking  that 
I'll  go  up  this  afternoon." 

"  It  will  be  a  rough  climb,"  I  said,  looking 
up  at  the  elevation  in  question,  with  its  acres 
of  rocks  and  dwarfed  jack  oaks,  "  but  I'll  go 
with  you." 

I  said  it  would  be  a  rough  climb,  but  rough 
was  a  mild  word  to  use  in  describing  it.  The 
way  would  not  have  been  quite  so  fearfully  beset 
with  poison  oak,  jack  oak,  briers,  loose  shale,  and 
cactus,  if  we  had  taken  the  short,  steep  path  that 
the  herders  sometimes  used,  although  even  they 
greatly  preferred  to  follow  the  winding  upward 
trail  along  which  it  was  possible  to  ride  a  horse, 
notwithstanding  it  was  some  two  miles  longer. 
But  we  did  not  know  of  it.  There  were  many 
8 


114  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

things  that  we  poor  Eastern  ignoramuses  were 
left  to  learn  through  bitter  experience.  Half- 
way up  the  steep  ascent,  which  from  the  valley 
did  not  look  to  be  half  so  steep  or  so  high  as  it 
really  was,  we  came  upon  an  inviting  looking 
bed  of  low  green  vines.  It  appeared  so  soft 
and  tempting  that  aunt,  who  was  a  few  steps 
in  advance,  called  back  to  me :  "  I'm  going  to 
sit  down  here  and  rest  awhile,  Elsie."  Imme- 
diately I  heard  a  cry  of  anguish  :  "  Elsie !  Oh, 
it's  nettles !  I  plucked  some  and  oh,  my  poor 
hands !"  Her  hands  were  bare  and  the  palms 
were  so  full  of  stings  that  they  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  clothed  themselves  in  a  new  kind  of 
fine  hair. 

"  We'd  better  go  back,"  I  said,  staring  at  her 
helplessly  while  she  waved  her  burning  hands 
in  agony. 

"  I  won't  go  back,  for  a  little  thing  like  this. 
I'll  know  a  nettle  next  time  I  see  it,  though, 
and  I'll  know  another  thing.  There's  an  old 
saw  that  runs : 


A  VISIT    FROM    THE   SHEPHERDS  115 

'Tender  handed  stroke  a  nettle, 

And  it  stings  you  for  your  pains ; 
Grasp  it  like  a  man  of  mettle, 
And  it  soft  as  silk  remains.' 

I  grasped  them  like  a  man  of  mettle,  but  they 
didn't  feel  like  silk.  There's  this  virtue  in  a 
nettle  sting,  though,  it  doesn't  last  long;  it's 
like  putting  one's  hands  into  fire  while  it  does 
last.  We'll  be  more  careful  after  this !" 

We  were  so  very  careful  that  our  caution  re- 
tarded our  progress,  for,  scenting  danger  now  in 
the  most  innocent  shrubs,  we  dared  not  avail  our- 
selves of  the  strong  branches  of  the  jack  oaks  as 
we  had  been  doing,  to  help  us  in  climbing,  but 
worked  our  way  upward  laboriously  on  hands 
and  knees  when  we  could  keep  our  footing  in 
no  other  way.  At  length,  with  the  last  remain- 
ing bit  of  strength  we  reached  the  craggy  sum- 
mit together,  and,  looking  down  on  the  other 
side,  we  both  uttered  a  startled  "Oh!"  We 
had  ascended  the  northern  side  of  the  mountain 
which  had — from  a  Montana  point  of  view — 
a  good  deal  of  vegetation,  but  the  opposite, 


116  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

southern  slope  seemed  to  our  unaccustomed  eyes 
as  bare  of  everything  as  the  palm  of  one's  hand, 
save  a  chaotic  jumble  of  rocks,  scrub  oaks,  and 
scraggy  pines.  How  could  any  grazing  animal 
live  in  such  a  barren  spot  ?  Something  did  live 
there,  however.  It  seemed  to  me  in  the  first 
moment  of  amazed  contemplation,  that  the  little 
walled-in  valley  held  millions  and  millions  of 
sheep ;  they  were  everywhere.  They  swarmed 
up  the  hillsides — and  were  only  restrained  from 
swarming  over  it,  I  quickly  observed,  by  the 
vigilant  watchfulness  of  a  shaggy,  rough  looking 
dog,  who  went  dashing  hither  and  thither, 
bringing  back  to  the  lower  slope  any  animal 
that  strayed  farther  away  than  he  thought  ad- 
visable. Presently  we  descried  two  swarthy 
looking  men  lounging  in  the  shadow  of  a  huge 
rock,  near  what  was  probably  their  camp,  a  rude 
little  cabin  of  unhewn  logs ;  sometimes  one  or 
the  other  of  them  shouted  a  word  of  direction 
or  command,  I  suppose,  for  I  observed  that  the 
collie  altered  his  course,  or  stood  obediently 
listening  whenever  either  spoke.  Fortunately, 


IT  SEEMED  AS  IF  THE  VALLEY  HELD  MILLIONS  OF  SHEEP 
(Page  116.) 


A  VISIT    FROM   THE   SfiEfHERDS  117 

the  odd  foreign  words  stuck  in  my  memory, 
though  I  did  not  understand  their  meaning. 

Aunt  Matilda,  standing  by  my  side,  watched 
the  scene  with  kindling  eyes.  "  Shall  we  give 
them  up  to  the  rustlers,  Elsie  ?"  she  whispered. 

"  Not  until  we've  tried  keeping  them,  aunt." 

"  I  don't  believe  matters  are  quite  so  bad  as 
Rome  would  have  us  think,  anyway,"  she  said 
after  a  thoughtful  pause,  during  which  we  had 
both  been  attentively  studying  the  situation. 
"  But,  Elsie,  we  must  get  the  poor  things  out  on 
the  plains  ;  to  the  summer  range  that  we  have 
leased.  I  wonder  if  you  and  Florence  could 
stand  it  to  ride  up  here  to-morrow  and  make 
those  men  understand  that  we  want  the  sheep 
taken  to  better  pasturage  ?" 

"  We  can  certainly  ride  up  here,  Aunt  Ma- 
tilda. You  know  we've  been  riding  every  day 
for  three  weeks  now,  but  I  very  much  doubt 
our  being  able  to  make  the  Mexicans  under- 
stand that  we  want  the  sheep  taken  outside  the 
valley,  or  anything  else." 

"  That  is  an  objection.    I  wish  we  understood 


118  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Spanish ;  we  might  buy  a  Spanish  grammar,  or 
a  conversation  book." 

"  We'd  better  buy  a  pair  of  them  ;  then  we 
can  hand  one  to  the  herder  while  we  study  the 
other  ;  it  wouldn't  seem  just  right  to  hurl  our 
new-made  Spanish  at  him  when  he  has  nothing 
at  hand  to  defend  himself  with." 

"  You  may  laugh  ;  but,  I  tell  you,  one  of  us 
must  begin  taking  lessons  at  once." 

"  Aunt  Matilda,  have  you  ever  noticed  that 
everything  we  have  undertaken  since  we  first 
heard  of  Mr.  Seaton  has  been  '  at  once  '?" 

"  That  is  true  ;  we  have  been  forced  to  keep 
up  a  pretty  lively  pace,  and  tfrere  is  no  drawing 
back  now." 

"  No ;  I'm  not  feeling  as  though  I  wanted  to 
draw  back,  either." 

"  It's  bound  to  be  a  hard  experience  for  you 
two  girls,  Elsie.  If  only  Donald  had  been  as 
true  to  us  as  we  to  him  what  a  blessing  he 
would  be  to  us  now  !  But  it's  useless  to  regret 
Donald.  We  have  to  depend  solely  on  our- 
selves." It  was  the  first  reference  she  had  made 


A  VISIT    FROM    THE    SHEPHERDS  119 

to  Donald's  perfidy,  and  it  was  not  made  with- 
out emotion.  We  stood  in  silence  for  some 
minutes  longer  watching  the  scene  below  us, 
and  then,  turning  homeward,  made  our  toilsome 
way  down  the  mountain.  The  downward  path 
is,  however,  proverbially  easier  to  travel  than 
the  one  leading  upward,  and  so  it  proved  in  our 
case ;  still  we  were  so  weary  and  disheveled 
when  we  reached  home  that  father  observed  in- 
quiringly :  "  You  have  been  for  a  long  walk  ?" 

"  Yes/'  we  replied. 

"  Don't  exert  yourselves  beyond  your 
strength  ;  we  shall  have  plenty  of  time  for 
exploration." 

Our  little  sitting  room  was  a  cozy  and  invit- 
ing place.  I  was  thinking  so  that  evening  as 
father  and  Vevie  sat  by  the  table  carefully 
placing  between  sheets  of  wrapping  paper  some 
flowers  that  they  had  gathered,  intent  on  pre- 
serving them  by  pressing.  Florence,  in  the 
dusky  corner  by  the  organ,  was  softly  touching 
the  keys,  making  a  low  accompaniment  to  the 
pleasant  silence — for  little  was  said.  Johnny, 


120  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

whom  one  was  apt  to  forget  until  he  spoke — 
his  silent  presence  was  so  unobtrusive — said 
suddenly  : 

"  Some  one  knocked."  Another  of  Johnny's 
traits  was  a  fear  to  open  the  door  for  a  stranger. 
He  knew  Rome's  frequent  knock  well  enough 
to  distinguish  it  from  all  others.  I  opened  the 
door.  Two  swarthy  men  in  picturesque  dress 
were  standing  on  the  threshold.  I  recognized 
them  as  our  herders  even  before  the  elder, 
speaking  in  halting  English,  proclaimed  the 
fact.  In  response  to  father's  invitation  they 
entered  the  room  timidly,  and  with  furtive 
glances  like  the  shy,  half-tamed  dwellers  of  the 
wilderness  that  they  were,  unheeding,  or  at 
least  ignoring,  the  seats  offered  them,  the  elder 
began : 

"Me — I — come  to  say  at  you;  sheep  no 
more;  no  more." 

The  younger  and  smaller  herder  appeared  to 
indorse  this  speech,  whatever  it  might  mean,  by 
twisting  one  leg  around  the  other  and  writhing 
uneasily  as  he  stood. 


A  VISIT    FROM    THE   SHEPHERDS  121 

"  Oh,  is  it  possible !"  cried  father,  much 
shocked.  "  Why,  Matilda,  I  gather  from 
what  this  man  says  that  our  sheep  are  all 
dead !" 

Apparently  the  herder  understood  English 
much  better  than  he  could  speak  it. 

"  No,  sefior ;  no  dead,"  he  said,  gravely. 
"  The  sheeps,  they  live ;  but  of  them  we 
no  more  watch — we — what  you  would  say, 
vamose." 

"  And  if  I  said  it  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't  know 
what  it  meant;  what  does  it  mean?"  father 
asked  him. 

"  It  means — "  the  Mexican  studied  a  moment 
in  perplexity,  "  no  more  we  stay  at  the  tail  of 
the  sheep  ;  we  go." 

"Why?"  father  asked,  and  Aunt  Matilda 
leaned  forward  with  whitening  cheeks,  more 
afraid  of  what  might  be  revealed  to  father  than 
of  the  thing  itself,  but  with  no  possible  excuse 
for  interference.  The  younger  Mexican  who  had 
been  holding  his  hat  deferentially  in  one  hand, 
now  grasped  it  tightly  in  both,  holding  it  over 


122  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

his  heart  as  if  fearful  that  that  organ  might 
jump  out  while  his  senior  replied:  "  It  is  no 
good  for  any  man  to  keep  the  sheeps." 

"  The  man  is  probably  dissatisfied  with  the 
wages  ;  let  him  go.  There  are  plenty  of  others, 
Hugh,"  advised  Aunt  Matilda,  who  could  hold 
her  peace  no  longer. 

"  Well,  but,  Matilda,  they  must  stay  until  we 
can  engage  some  one  else  ;  why,  it's  absurd,  the 
idea  of  their  leaving  in  this  way  !  See  here," 
he  continued  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance,  turning 
again  to  the  Mexican.  "  You'll  have  to  stay 
with  us  a  few  days  longer,  my  friend,  whether 
or  no.  You  must  give  us  time  to  get  another 
herder  before  you  leave  us  in  the  lurch." 

The  Mexican  shook  his  head  gently  but  in- 
flexibly. "  There  was  no  more  herder  as  you 
could  get;  no  more  at  all." 

"  Now  see  here,"  father  said  in  rising  excite- 
ment, "  I  paid  you,  through  Mr.  Seaton,  who 
advised  it,  and  very  ill-advised  it  seems  to  have 
been — two  months'  wages  in  advance  ;  only  five 
weeks  of  that  time  has  passed.  I  don't  propose 


A  VISIT    FROM    THE   SHEPHERDS  123 

to  allow  you  to  keep  your  money  and  desert 
your  place  in  this  way." 

For  answer  the  herder  slowly  drew  near  the 
table,  and  thrusting  his  hand  into  a  pocket  hid- 
den somewhere  within  his  fluttering  garments, 
pulled  out  a  roll  of  grimy  bills,  and,  unrolling 
it,  proceeded  to  count  it  out  on  the  table,  divid- 
ing it  into  two  heaps  as  he  did  so.  "  Uno,  dos, 
tres,  cuatro,  cinco,  seis,"  he  counted  slowly  and 
with  careful  deliberation  ;  then  he  again  rolled 
ttp  one  diminished  pile,  pocketed  it,  and  shoved 
the  other  two  toward  father.  "  That  much  we 
have  not  work  ;  here  it  is." 

Father  counted  the  bills.  "  That's  right ;  but 
why  do  you  leave  ?" 

"Sefior,"  returned  the  Mexican,  with  great  ear- 
nestness, "it  is  that  we  must.  Me?  I  was  sor- 
rowful to  leave  the  senor  in  difficult',  but  my 
hermosa — my  brother  and  me — not  yet  were  we 
ready  to  die."  The  younger  herder  nodded  his 
head  in  solemn  corroboration  of  this  statement, 
and  the  elder  went  on,  "  To  keep  the  sheeps 
it  is  not  now  best  if  that  one  wishes  to  live." 


124  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Father  had  nothing  to  say  in  answer  to  this 
remarkable  statement,  and  the  herder  made  his 
adieus  with  punctilious  politeness — the  adieus 
being  repeated  by  the  younger  with  the  grave 
accuracy  of  a  parrot  reciting  a  lesson.  Then 
turning  toward  the  door,  they  opened  it  and 
disappeared. 

"  I  dare  say  it's  some  heathenish  idea  of  pen- 
ance, or  making  a  pilgrimage,  or  a  flagellation 
that  they've  got  into  their  heads,"  father  was 
saying,  vaguely,  when  the  door  again  opened 
and  the  elder  Mexican  thrust  his  face  and  one 
hand  into  the  room.  The  extended  hand  held 
out  the  soiled  but  picturesque  garment  that  we 
had  seen  but  a  moment  before  upon  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Felix,  he  guard ;  guard  against  all.  White 
man,  no  man  touches  sheep  while  Felix  live 
unless  he  show  this  at  him  and  tell  him,  Felix, 
perlita,  it  is  well ;  then  he  obey  all  that  a  white 
man  say." 

He  tossed  the  poncho  at  father's  feet  and  again 
vanished. 


A  VISIT   FROM   THE    SHEPHERDS  125 

"  Felix  is  the  dog,"  observed  Aunt  Matilda, 
touching  the  not  too  cleanly  garment  with  the 
toe  of  her  slipper.  "  Well,  I  only  hope  he'll 
prove  more  faithful  than  the  men  have  done." 
She  gathered  up  the  poncho  after  a  moment's 
silent  contemplation.  I  thought  she  was  about 
to  hang  it  out  on  the  porch,  but  instead  she 
hung  it  carefully  behind  the  door  of  the  room 
in  which  she  slept.  "  I  hope  he  has  another," 
she  remarked  ;  "  the  nights  are  cold." 


CHAPTER  IX 

INEXPERIENCED    HERDERS 

FATHER'S  health  had  so  much  improved 
during  our  few  weeks'  stay  in  the  valley  that 
he  had  been  able,  with  Johnny's  help,  to  con- 
struct a  kind  of  kiln — Johnny  would  persist  in 
calling  it  an  oven — for  testing  the  various  kinds 
of  clay  that  he  found  in  his  daily  walks.  He 
was  so  interested  in  the  manufacture  of  his 
bricks,  literally  bricks  without  straw,  hence  the 
patent  for  "  earthenware  houses,"  as  he  called 
the  ultimate  design  of  all  this  experimenting — 
that  I  am  afraid  we  counted  quite  confidently 
upon  his  forgetting  all  about  the  starving  sheep 
without  a  shepherd  in  that  lonely  valley,  three 
miles  away,  but  we  did  him  injustice.  After  a 
hasty  breakfast,  Florence  and  I,  very  early  in 
the  morning,  hurried  out  to  the  barn  to  super- 
vise the  saddling  of  our  respective  ponies. 
Father  was  there  before  us.  We  had  supposed 
126 


INEXPERIENCED    HERDERS  127 

he  was  still  in  bed.  "  I  got  the  start  of  you, 
didn't  I  ?"  he  said  smiling.  "  I  have  a  shrewd 
suspicion  that  you  two  meant  to  steal  away  and 
leave  your  useless  old  father  behind,  but  he's 
going  with  you." 

"  It'll  be  such  a  hard  ride  for  you,  Hugh," 
protested  Aunt  Matilda,  who  had  discovered  his 
absence  from  the  house,  and  advanced  to  the 
rescue. 

"  Any  harder  for  me,  Matilda,  than  for  these 
girls?" 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  it  will  be  ;  they're  used 
to  riding,  and  you  are  not." 

"  I  was  once  a  good  rider,  and  I  think  the  old 
skill  will  come  back  with  a  little  practice." 

"But,  Hugh,  it  looks  like  rain;  see  those 
clouds  hanging  around  Mount  Kenneth  !  You 
are  not  able  to  go ;  what  if  you  should  get  wet  ?" 

"  What  if  Florence  and  Elsie  should  get  wet? 
Come,  Matilda,  I'm  pretty  obedient,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing,  but  you  can't  always  coddle  me  as 
you  would  a  year-old  baby.  Johnny,  get  Chris 
saddled  while  I'm  eating  breakfast." 


128  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  Chris  no  good,"  said  Johnny,  surveying  the 
yellow  buckskin  with  marked  disfavor. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?"  asked  father,  paus- 
ing on  his  way  to  the  house. 

Johnny  was  seldom  able  to  give  a  reason ;  he 
could  not  now,  but  shook  his  head  dolefully, 
repeating,  "  Chris  no  good." 

"  I'll  risk  him;  get  him  ready,"  and  he  went 
into  the  house. 

"  It  will  be  so  nice  to  have  father  go,"  said 
Florence,  who  did  not  yet  understand  how  mat- 
ters stood,  although  Aunt  Matilda  and  I,  in 
secret  council,  had  decided  that  she  was  to  be 
enlightened  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  offered. 
I  had  hoped  that  it  would  offer  while  we 
were  riding  to  the  upper  San  Coulee,  but 
father's  going  put  an  end  to  that,  and,  as  it  was, 
I  was  rather  glad  that  she  did  not  yet  know. 
We  mounted  our  horses  at  the  barn  and  then 
rode  up  to  the  house  with  Johnny,  who  was 
leading  Chris.  Father  came  out  with  a  book  in 
his  hand,  which  he  thrust  into  the  pocket  of  his 
saddle.  "  Herding  sheep  is  rather  a  monotonous 


INEXPERIENCED    HERDERS  129 

business,"  he  remarked,  after  we  were  fairly 
on  the  road.  "  A  shepherd  would  have  plenty 
of  time  to  get  a  good  education  if  he  could  only 
manage  it  himself." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  would  care  to  try 
for  an  education  in  that  way,"  returned  Flor- 
ence saucily ;  "  besides,  while  I  was  studying, 
what  would  my  sheep  be  doing  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  sheep !  It's  not  much  trouble  to 
watch  them ;  the  shepherd  sits  on  a  rock — " 
"  or  a  camp  chair,  if  there's  no  rock  handy," 
interpolated  Florence — "on  a  rock  with  his 
faithful  dog  beside  him,  and  if  any  member  of 
the  flock  is  inclined  to  stray  from  the  fold  the 
obedient  animal,  at  a  given  signal — " 

Florence  laughed  outright.  "  Papa,  you've 
got  a  good  memory ;  that's  in  the  '  Swiss 
Mountaineers.' " 

"  Is  it  ?  Well,  I  wasn't  quite  sure  myself  that 
it  was  original." 

The  trail  was  a  plain  one,  although  rough, 
and  father  rode  very  much  better  than  we  had 
thought  lie  could.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning, 
9 


130  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

so  early  yet  that  the  jack  oak  thickets  through 
which  we  brushed  showed  a  single  great  dew- 
drop,  like  a  sparkling  diamond,  at  the  tip  of 
each  sharp-pointed  leaf,  and,  as  we  journeyed 
higher  up,  passing  underneath  the  overhanging 
branches  of  the  pine  trees,  the  stiff  pine  needles 
rained  down  a  cool,  balsamic  shower  upon  us. 
From  the  nearer  cafions  heavy  clouds  of  white 
vapor  ascended,  the  tribute  of  the  always  chilly 
night  to  the  approaching  warmth  of  day.  The 
trail  wound  upward  steadily  ;  it  was  longer  than 
I  had  supposed — three  miles  of  upward  climb- 
ing is  a  very  much  longer  distance  than  the 
same  measure  laid  out  on  the  level  plains.  Our 
progress  was  slow,  but  it  was  to  all  so  strange,  so 
new,  so  beautiful,  that  at  every  little  park-like 
opening  we  stopped  to  look  about  us.  From 
the  dark  depths  of  a  canon  on  our  left  the  Voice 
of  the  rushing  river  sounded,  foaming  and  fret- 
ting at  the  obstructions  that  came  in  its  way  on 
its  tumultuous  rush  to  the  plains.  The  sun,  as 
we  could  see  from  our  airy  outlook,  was  shining 
lull  upon  the  plains,  though  the  valley  was  still 


INEXPERIENCED   HERDERS  131 

in  shadow.  As  we  looked,  first  one  long  shaft 
of  golden  light,  then  another  and  another, 
touched  the  higher  peaks  and  dropped  softly 
down  and  down  into  the  valley,  a  growing, 
expanding  sheen  of  glory,  dispersing  and  put- 
ting the  shadows  to  flight.  The  combinations 
of  shifting,  changing  color,  as  the  sunlight 
fell  upon  the  clouds  of  vapor  rolling  up  from 
the  canons  were  wonderful,  ethereal,  elusive,  in- 
describable. 

"  Up  to  the  hills  will  I  lift  mine  eyes  ;  will 
lift  mine  eyes !"  sang  Florence,  jubilantly.  She 
stopped  abruptly,  her  rose-tinted  cheeks  blanch- 
ing. "  What  was  that  ?" 

It  was  the  sound  made  by  hundreds  of  small, 
sharp  little  hoofs  as  they  went  scurrying  away  in 
a  panic.  With  the  sound  was  mingled  the  angry, 
excited  barking  of  a  dog,  as,  judging  from  the 
sound,  he  darted  hither  and  thither  among  the 
hurrying  hoofs. 

"That,  I  judge,  is  a  little  commotion  among 
sheep,"  said  father,  pressing  forward,  "  and,  yes, 
here  they  are." 


132  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

There  they  were,  truly  !  The  rocky  shoulder 
around  which  we  had  just  ridden  had  its 
counterpart  on  the  other  side.  The  long,  flank- 
ing spurs  of  two  near  mountains  coming  close 
together  and  ending  abruptly  in  perpendicular 
walls  of  rock,  formed  a  narrow,  natural  gateway 
to  the  valley.  The  encircling  mountains  rose 
sheer  and  close  on  every  hand,  and  this  narrow 
pass  was  the  only  practicable  outlet  to  the  lower 
valley,  although  there  was  a  wider  outlet  on  the 
farther,  southern  extremity.  All  this  we  learned 
later ;  just  now  we  were  being  strongly  urged  to 
define  our  position.  The  sheep  were  scattering 
up  the  mountain  sides  in  all  directions,  bleating 
in  terror,  for  such  was  the  effect  that  Florence's 
exquisite  voice  had  had  on  the  foolish  creatures, 
and  the  disgusted  dog,  abandoning  a  futile 
but  heroic  attempt  to  reduce  them  to  order, 
turned  his  attention  to  us,  the  intruders  who 
had  stolen  upon  his  charges  while  the  shepherds 
were  absent.  He  was  thus  called  upon  to  decide, 
according  to  the  light  of  experience,  whether 
we  were  to  be  regarded  as  friends  or  foes. 


INEXPERIENCED    HERDERS  133 

Apparently  his  experience  had  not  been  favora- 
ble to  confidence.  He  regarded  us  as  enemies,  and 
conducted  himself  accordingly.  Father,  whose 
long  legs  dangled  dangerously  near  the  ground 
as  he  sat  upon  the  small  yellow  broncho,  pulled 
his  grizzled  mustache,  thoughtfully  contem- 
plating the  dog,  who  had  taken  his  position 
beside  a  rock  a  few  feet  in  advance  of  us,  and 
was  evidently  prepared  to  maintain  that  position 
with  the  sacrifice  of  his  life  if  need  be.  Father 
then  remarked  in  a  tone  more  of  sorrow  than  of 
anger : 

"  This  is  a  queer  predicament ;  the  dog  thinks 
we've  no  business  here ;  he  may  be  right,  but  I 
wish  we  could  hit  upon  some  way  of  explaining 
the  situation  to  him.  Didn't  the  man  say  his 
name  was  Felix  ?" 

There  was  no  occasion  for  a  reply  from  either 
of  us.  At  the  sound  of  his  own  name  the  collie 
dropped  his  defiant  tail  and  bristling  hair, 
stopped  barking,  and  looked  inquiringly,  yet 
doubtfully  in  father's  face.  "  Good  dog !  Good 
Felix!"  said  father,  urging  Chris  to  take 


134  THE   GTRL   RANCHERS 

another  step  forward.  But  Felix  was  not  to  be 
taken  off  his  guard ;  he  growled  angrily,  his 
eyes  gleaming  fiercely,  and  father  stopped. 
Then,  suddenly,  I  thought  of  the  Mexican's 
poncho  that  Aunt  Matilda  had  rolled  into  a 
compact  little  bundle  and  tied  to  my  saddle. 
Untying  it,  I  shook  it  out  and  sprang  from  my 
horse,  and  cautiously  advanced  toward  the 
collie,  who,  ceasing  his  warlike  demonstrations, 
was  silently  observing  my  movements. 

Now  it  is  not  given  to  all  people  to  be  under- 
stood and  beloved  by  dogs,  but  I  am  proud  to 
say  that  I  have  never  failed  in  securing  their 
friendship  when  I  tried.  So  now,  as  I  con- 
tinued, in  spite  of  the  whispered  remonstrance 
of  the  others,  to  walk  toward  poor  Felix,  I  was 
not  at  all  afraid,  in  spite  of  his  angry  eyes.  I 
held  the  poncho  out  to  him,  saying,  "Felix, 
come  !  Good  Felix,  come !"  The  poor  fellow 
advanced  a  step ;  smelled  of  the  garment,  and 
looked  up  at  me  appealingly,  it  seemed  to  my 
excited  fancy,  even  reproachfully,  and  I  won- 
dered whimsically  if  he  suspected  me  of  having 


INEXPERIENCED   HERDERS  135 

made  way  with  the  missing  shepherds.  Then, 
laying  his  body  on  the  ground,  he  writhed  up 
to  my  feet,  and,  with  his  nose  on  his  paws, 
whined  imploringly.  I  stopped  and  patted  his 
head.  "  Good  Felix  !"  was  all  that  I  could  say, 
it  was  enough ;  henceforth  he  recognized  my 
right  to  command,  while  he  simply  accorded  a 
cold  toleration  to  the  others,  who  had  disdained 
the  Mexican's  card  of  introduction. 

Thrilled  with  my  success  with  the  guardian 
of  the  flock,  I  recalled  the  uncomprehended 
words  that  had  floated  up  to  my  ears  as  I  gazed 
down  into  the  valley  the  day  before ;  they  were 
directions  to  the  dog  which  the  herder  issued  at 
his  indolent  ease,  but  with  instant  effect.  I 
reasoned  sagely  that  the  collie  would  under- 
stand their  meaning  if  I  did  not.  The  sheep 
were  still  scattering  wildly  up  the  mountain 
slopes.  "  Ve  alia !  ve  alia,  Felix !"  I  cried, 
plunging  recklessly  into  Spanish.  The  effect 
was  electrifying.  Away  and  up  the  mountain 
the  collie  darted,  scrambling  over  rocks,  through 
brush  and  fallen  trees  until  he  had  circled 


136  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

around  the  fleeing  sheep  and  brought  them  to  a 
standstill ;  then  he  stopped,  perched  on  a  rock 
high  above,  and  peered  inquiringly  at  me. 

"  He's  waiting  for  further  orders,  Elsie,"  cried 
Florence,  laughing.  "  Come,  you've  won  his 
allegiance,  and  now  air  your  Spanish  a  little 
more — I  suppose  it's  Spanish,  though  I  doubt  if 
one  of  the  hidalgos  would  admit  it — and  tell  the 
poor  fellow  what  to  do  next." 

"  They  are  only  the  calls  that  I  heard  the 
shepherds  using  when  Aunt  Matilda  and  I  were 
up  in  the  mountain  yesterday.  I  remembered 
the  sound ;  I  think  perhaps  I'd  better  try  an- 
other." 

"  Do,"  urged  father.  "  We  may  learn  some- 
thing if  the  collie  don't,  and  of  the  lot  of  us  we 
stand  the  most  in  need  of  enlightenment." 

"  Cuidado !"  I  cried  imperatively,  but  that 
was  plainly  a  mistake.  Felix  bounded  from  his 
post,  running  to  and  fro  along  the  outer  edges 
of  the  flock,  evidently  in  anxious  search  of  some 
fancied  danger,  that  I  made  haste  to  hurl  an- 
other Spanish  morsel  at  him.  "  Reloj,  Felix !" 


INEXPERIENCED    HERDEES  137 

Instantly  the  dog,  abandoning  his  air  of  strained 
attention,  sat  down  upon  his  haunches  and  dis- 
posed himself  to  keeping  watch  comfortably. 

"That  was  right,  I'm  sure,  whatever  it 
meant,"  said  father.  "  It's  a  pity  the  poor  brute 
don't  understand  English  at  all." 

"  I  don't  think  he's  a  brute,  father,"  I  could 
not  help  saying  reproachfully,  "  and  I'm  sure  he 
can  learn  anything  he  wishes.  I'll  undertake 
his  education  in  English,"  which  I  did  from  that 
day  and  with  such  success  that,  before  the  season 
was  over,  I  reckoned  my  collie  an  accomplished 
linguist,  as  collies  go. 

We  decided,  as  the  sheep  were  now  grazing 
peaceably,  to  leave  them  to  Felix  while  we 
amused  ourselves  by  investigating  the  herder's 
cabin.  The  herders  had  left  in  haste,  but 
they  had  taken  all  of  their  few  personal  effects 
with  them.  There  was  not,  seemingly,  a 
scrap  of  anything  left  in  the  cabin  save  a 
dirty  water  bucket,  a  few  rusty  tin  cans,  and  a 
small  pile  of  firewood.  In  one  corner  was  a 
fireplace,  built  Mexican  fashion,  and  in  this  we 


138  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

were  presently  making  a  fire,  not  that  we  needed 
it,  but  as  a  kind  of  provision  for  the  future. 
The  sunny  sky  had  already  become  overcast, 
and  the  rain  that  Aunt  Matilda  presaged,  seemed 
imminent.  We  had  brought  long  ropes,  or 
lariats,  with  which  to  tether  the  horses,  intending 
to  stake  them  out  on  the  grass,  but  there  was  no 
grass  for  them.  They  would  not  even  make  a 
pretense  of  eating,  but  looked  after  us  expectantly 
wherever  we  went ;  evidently  longing  to  take  the 
homeward  trail. 

We  had  brought  lunch  for  ourselves  and  a 
substantial  dinner  for  Felix.  We  ate  our  lunch 
outside  the  cabin  at  noon — for  even  the  attrac- 
tive little  fireplace  could  not  reconcile  us  to  the 
too  pronounced  smell  of  the  cabin — and  then  I 
called  Felix  down  to  eat  his  meal.  He  came, 
reluctantly  and  with  an  apologetic  air  as  though 
doing  something  unusual.  He  knew,  as  I  did 
not,  that  he  ought  not  to  leave  the  flock,  but  he 
had  just  sworn  allegiance  to  me  and  he  came. 
Soon  a  warning  peal  of  thunder  came  from  a 
cloud  hanging  over  the  mountains,  and  great 


INEXPERIENCED    HERDERS  139 

drops  of  rain  began  to  fall.  Florence  and  I 
made  haste  to  bring  our  saddles  into  the  cabin, 
and,  throwing  them  down  before  the  fire,  we 
used  them  as  seats  while  father  occupied  the 
stool  that  the  Mexicans  had  left  just  outside  the 
door.  He  had  placed  the  stool  near  the  open 
doorway  and  was  soon  lost  to  all  else  in  rapt  con- 
templation of  the  alternately  darkening  and 
brightening  crest  of  the  opposite  mountain,  as 
the  storm  of  wind  and  rain  swept  over  it. 

I  was  secretly  worried  by  the  behavior  of  the 
dog,  who  lingered  just  outside  the  door,  occa- 
sionally looking  in  at  us  wistfully  and  whining. 

"I  don't  believe  our  cookery  agrees  with 
Felix,"  remarked  Florence  at  last;  "he  acts 
as  if  he  were  sick."  She  picked  up  a  billet 
of  wood  as  she  spoke  and  tossed  it  on  the  fire. 
Underneath  the  stick  a  fragment  of  soiled  writ- 
ing paper  was  lying,  and  she  picked  that  up, 
too,  tendering  it  to  me  daintily.  "  Here,  here's 
something  with  writing  on  it ;  perhaps  it's  in 
Spanish ;  shall  we  call  the  dog  in  to  help  trans- 
late ?"  But  the  happy  laughter  died  out  of  her 


140  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

eyes  as  she  looked  at  me  and  observed  my  face, 
which  I  felt  was  blanching.  I  read  the  note 
and  knew  why  the  herders  had  been  in  such 
haste  to  leave : 

"  To  Juan  and  Antonio  Baca,"  it  began,  for 
it  was  written  in  English,  "  Take  notice,  you 
two  Mexican  coyotes  !  If  either  of  you  are  found 
in  this  valley  twenty-four  hours  from  now  you'll 
be  shot  at  sight ;  take  notice  and  govern  your- 
selves accordingly." 

I  passed  the  note  to  Florence.  "  What  does 
it  mean  ?  Do  you  know  ?"  she  whispered.  I 
nodded  yes. 

Just  then  father's  voice  broke  the  silence: 
"  The  mountain  heights !  How  wild,  how  mys- 
tical they  seem ;  now  hidden  by  ragged  clouds, 
now  standing  out  clearly  in  the  sunlight ;  even 
those  small  white  animals  that  seem  to  be  going 
up  among  the  clouds  in  an  endless  procession 
add  to  the  wildness  of  the  scene." 

With  a  startled  cry  I  broke  into  his  day 
dream.  Those  small  white  animals  that  gave 
wildness  to  the  scene  were  our  sheep,  fleeing 


INEXPERIENCED    HERDERS  141 

wildly  as  if  in  fear,  and  disappearing  over  the 
mountain's  rocky  crest  like  the  mist  that  had 
so  lately  hung  there ;  and  all,  I  told  myself  bit- 
terly in  the  first  moment  of  self-abasement,  be- 
cause I  had  forgotten  to  put  on  guard  poor 
faithful  Felix,  who  had  for  the  last  two  hours 
been  begging  for  orders. 


CHAPTER  X 

A    STAMPEDED    FLOCK 

DARTING  by  father,  I  ran  out  and  poured  into 
Felix's  willing  ears  all  the  orders  that  I  could 
recall  in  one  disjointed,  passionate  volley.  "  Ve 
alia!  De  una  Vex!  Cuidado!  Reloj !"  I 
shouted  wildly.  Fortunately  Felix  knew  what 
to  do — all  he  had  waited  for  was  the  permission 
to  do  it.  Half  the  flock  were  by  this  time  out 
of  sight.  Even  to  our  unaccustomed  eyes  the 
task  before  Felix  appeared  so  hopeless  that  we 
made  no  move  to  go  to  his  aid. 

"If  we  could  only  get  around  on  the  other 
side  and  shoo  them  back !"  exclaimed  Florence, 
hopelessly.  Father  thought  a  moment.  "I 
believe  that  is  the  only  feasible  thing  to  do,"  he 
said,  presently.  "  We'd  better  saddle  up  and 
get  after  them  as  soon  as  possible."  We  were 
presently  on  the  trail  again,  looking  carefully 
along  either  side  for  some  place  in  which  to  get 
142 


A   STAMPEDED    FLOCK  143 

down  and  make  the  detour  around  the  moun- 
tains that  father  suggested.  Felix  had  not  at- 
tempted to  drive  the  sheep  that  were  yet  in  sight 
down  to  the  valley  again,  but  was  after  the  runa- 
ways. We  could  hear  his  bark  growing  faint 
and  fainter  as  we  rode  down  the  trail. 

"This  will  never  do,"  father  said  at  last, 
drawing  rein.  "  We  must  take  the  first  break 
in  the  hills  that  we  come  to  and  get  to  that  dog's 
assistance."  The  break  came  soon  in  the  form 
of  an  innocent  seeming  gully  that,  dipping 
downward  at  a  pretty  sharp  angle,  lost  itself  in 
a  tangle  of  poplar  and  quaking  aspens.  Down 
it  we  rode,  and  forced  our  way  through  the  pop- 
lar thicket,  getting  drenched  to  the  skin  by  the 
water  that  still  dripped  from  the  overhanging 
boughs.  It  seemed  so  reckless  for  father  to 
allow  himself  to  get  wet  in  this  way  that  both 
Florence  and  I  urged  him  to  go  back,  but  he 
would  not  listen  to  us.  4<  Push  on,  children," 
he  insisted ;  "  we'll  be  out  of  this  soon."  We 
soon  were  out  of  it,  and  we  found  ourselves 
at  the  bottom  of  a  gorge  with  rocky,  nearly 


144  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

perpendicular  walls,  towering  higher  and  higher 
at  every  step. 

"  This  does  not  seem  to  be  a  very  popular 
route  to  the  other  side,"  remarked  Florence, 
who  was  in  the  lead,  as  she  urged  the  unwilling 
broncho  slowly  forward. 

"  Wait !"  cried  father.  "  Listen !  I'm  afraid 
we  are  going  away  from  the  sheep  rather  than 
toward  them.  Do  you  hear  the  dog  !"  We  did 
not,  but  decided  to  press  forward  a  few  steps 
farther.  The  way  soon  grew  so  difficult  that 
father  again  called  a  halt.  The  gorge  was  dark, 
damp,  and  cold,  and  he  was  shivering. 

"  Really,  girls,  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  give 
it  up ;  we  are  so  unused  to  the  mountain  trails 
that—" 

"Hello!  hello,  down  there!  What  you 
doin',"  called  a  voice  from  above.  The  voice 
was  harsh,  there  was  a  suspicion  of  a  sneer  in  it, 
but  Florence  brightened. 

"  It's  our  friend,  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Jones," 
she  ejaculated,  while  father,  lifting  his  own 
voice  explained  our  position  and  purpose. 


A   STAMPEDED   FLOCK  145 

"  Where  does  this  gorge  lead  to,  anyway  ?"  he 
asked  in  conclusion. 

"  It  don't  lead ;  it  loses,"  returned  the  hoarse 
tones  of  the  saturnine  Jones.  "  If  you  keep 
right  on  you'll  find  out  for  yourselves  before 
long.  You'll  be  traveling  out  to  the  plains  on 
the  current  of  the  Rio  San  Coulee,  for  there 
ain't  room  for  a  horse  to  get  down  airy  other 
way;  but  you  won't  know  it.  There  hain't 
nothing  ever  got  through  that  cafion  alive  that 
ever  I  heard  of." 

We  had  by  this  time  located  the  voice,  or  the 
owner  of  it.  He  was  standing  on  the  verge  of 
a  cliff;  the  vegetation  was  so  dense  that  only 
his  head  and  shoulders  were  visible,  against  the 
gray  background  of  a  sky  that  was  still  half 
disposed  to  shed  rainy  tears  he  looked  not  unlike 
a  colossal,  ill-natured  cherub.  We  turned  our 
horses  about,  and  rode  as  straight  homeward  as 
the  very  crooked  trail  would  admit  of.  Felix 
and  the  sheep  were  for  the  nonce  left  to  their 
fate.  We  hoped  that  Rome  might  call  that 
evening,  and  our  hopes  were  realized.  He  was 
10 


146  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

plainly  very  much  disturbed  by  what  he  heard, 
but  he  wasted  no  time  in  lamentations.  No 
sooner  was  the  story  told  than  he  arose  from 
his  chair,  saying,  "  I'll  go  out  to  the  stable  with 
Johnny  and  tackle  up  one  of  your  horses  if  you 
don't  mind.  I  reckon  the  sooner  some  one  is 
on  the  trail  of  those  sheep  the  more  of  them 
there  will  be  left." 

"  Why,  but  surely,  you  won't  think  of  going 
to-night?"  objected  father.  "  I  feel  your  kind- 
ness deeply,  but  it  seems  to  me  it  is  imposing 
upon  it  to  ask  you  to  go  out  to-night  after  a 
flock  of  runaway  sheep." 

"  You  haven't  asked  me ;  I'm  going  whether 
or  no,"  returned  Rome,  sturdily.  "You  see, 
Mr.  Stanley,  what  between  wolves  and  mountain 
lions,  and — other  things,  there  won't  be  four 
hundred  hoofs  left  if  we  let  'em  run  loose  a  few 
hours  longer." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  wild  animals  would 
destroy  over  three  thousand  sheep  in  one  night !" 
exclaimed  father,  aghast. 

"  No ;  but  I  do  mean  that  they'd  scatter  four 


A   STAMPEDED    FLOCK  147 

times  that  number  to  the  four  winds,  so  that  it 
would  take  weeks  to  get  together  again  what 
there  was  left  of  them.  Sheep  that  are  kept  on 
a  mountain  range  have  got  to  be  watched,"  he 
concluded,  with  significant  emphasis. 

"  I'll  take  your  horse,  Luck,  if  you  don't 
mind,  Miss  Elsie." 

Now  I  was  very  anxious  for  an  opportunity 
to  speak  to  Rome  alone,  for  I  was  sure,  from  his 
manner  and  worried  looks,  that  he  saw  some- 
thing besides  an  accident  in  the  stampede  of  our 
sheep.  His  electing  to  take  Luck  gave  me  the 
chance  I  was  waiting  for. 

"  Then  I'll  go  out  to  the  barn  with  you  and 
tell  him  that  he  mustn't  hurt  you." 

"  All  right ;  I  reckon  you  can  get  that  into 
his  head  better  than  I  can." 

As  he  strode  out  at  the  front  door  I  followed 
him ;  but  I  had  time  to  observe  that  Aunt  Ma- 
tilda had  suddenly  disappeared  into  the  kitchen, 
whence  another  door  opened  in  the  direction  of 
the  barn,  and  it  was  no  surprise  to  find  her 
already  awaiting  us  when  we  got  there.  Rome 


148  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

dismissed  Johnny  when  he  saw  Aunt  Matilda. 
"  You  may  go  in,  Johnny ;  I'll  get  along  all 
right."  And  Johnny,  who  had  heard  and  un- 
derstood just  enough  of  what  had  occurred  to 
render  him  more  timid  than  usual,  gladly 
obeyed. 

"  I've  been  wondering  how  I  could  get  to 
speak  to  you  and  not  let  your  father  know," 
Rome  said,  as  Johnny  got  out  of  earshot.  "  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  again  about  the  way  the 
sheep  went.  Did  you  say  they  seemed  fright- 
ened?" 

"  Yes ;  and  there  was  nothing  to  frighten 
them  that  I  could  see." 

"  That  you  could  see.  That's  right,  I  reckon ; 
but  if  some  one  who  wanted  to  put  'em  in  mo- 
tion had  been  crawling  along  among  the  bushes 
and  in  the  shadows  of  the  rocks  the  sheep  would 
a  been  apt  to  see  it ;  that  was  what  was  done. 
You  said  that  the  dog  was  angry.  What  was 
there  for  him  to  be  angry  about  in  the  sheep 
just  getting  a  little  out  of  bounds?  It's  been  a 
good  day's  work,  Miss  Elsie,  that  you  folks  went 


A   STAMPEDED   FLOCK  149 

up  there  to-day.  I  hain't  a  doubt  but  what  it 
saved  the  life  of  the  dog." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  Aunt  Matilda. 

"  The  dog  is  a  good  deal  in  the  way  when  it 
comes  to  running  the  sheep  off  quietly ;  if  you 
hadn't  a  gone  up  and  got  there  in  good  season, 
too,  the  skulking  cowards  as  their  first  move 
would  a  shot  him,  but  finding  you  there  they 
had  to  be  more  cautious." 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken  ;  I  think 
it  must  have  been  an  accident,"  said  Aunt  Ma- 
tilda, almost  imploringly. 

"  We  might  jest  as  well  face  the  truth  first  as 
last,"  declared  Koine,  and  that  big  helpful  "  we  " 
thrilled  my  heart,  although  I  felt  that  it  was 
selfish  to  allow  this  man  to  take  our  troubles 
upon  his  shoulders  only  because  they  were  will- 
ing ;  we  had  no  claim  on  him,  but  we  were  in 
desperate  need  of  his  aid. 

I  had  not  yet  told  Aunt  Matilda  of  the  note 
we  found  in  the  herder's  cabin  ;  now  I  told  of 
it,  to  her  dismay,  but  Rome  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised. "  I  was  just  as  sure  that  the  cattlemen 


150  THE   GIEL   RANCHERS 

had  a  hand  in  this  day's  work  before  you  told 
of  that,  Miss  Elsie,  as  I  am  now.  They  are 
trying  to  drive  you  out  quietly ;  I  reckon  they 
don't  want  to  be  too  savage  with  a  lot  of  women 
folks.  I  hope,  Miss  Florence,  and  you,  Miss 
Stanley,  keep  on  visiting  Mrs.  Jones,"  he  added 
in  an  irrelevant  parenthesis,  "  and  I'm  afraid 
you  won't  get  any  herders  either."  Father  had 
told  him  that  we  proposed  looking  for  some  the 
next  day.  "Antonio  and  Juan  Baca  would  take 
more  risk  for  a  flock  of  sheep  than  any  other 
Mexicans  that  ever  I  saw ;  if  they  have  thrown 
up  the  job,  it's  thrown  up  for  good  as  far  as  the 
Mexicans  are  concerned  ;  they  are  all  afraid,  as 
well  may  they  be,  but,  Miss  Stanley,  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  something  now  that'll  make  you 
think  I'm  a  coward,  sure." 

"  While  you  are  saddling  up  to  go  out  into 
the  mountains  in  search  of  a  flock  of  sheep  that 
you  think  have  been  stampeded  by  murderous 
cattlemen,  alone,  and  at  night  ?"  queried  Aunt 
Matilda,  smiling  faintly. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  a  coward ;  I  only  said  you'd 


A    STAMPEDED    FLOCK  151 

think  I  was.  I'm  just  as  sure  that  you  will  not 
be  able  to  hire  a  herder,  black  or  white,  brown 
or  red,  to  take  the  place  of  those  that  left  you 
as  I  would  be  if  I  followed  Mr.  Stanley  to- 
morrow from  one  Mexican's  'dobe  to  another 
and  heard  them  all  tell  him,  as  polite  as  so  many 
dancing  masters,  '  No  sabe,  no  sabe.'  And  he'll 
go  away  discouraged,  thinkin'  he  can't  make 
them  understand.  They  understand  fast  enough, 
but  he'll  never  find  it  out.  It'll  be  perfectly 
safe,  Miss  Stanley,  for  him  to  go  shepherd  hunt- 
ing, for  he'll  never  learn  anything  you  don't 
want  him  to  know  from  them.  But  what  I  was 
going  to  say  was  this :  the  only  persons  who  can 
herd  them  sheep  in  safety  are  the  young  ladies 
themselves.  There  ain't  a  cattleman  in  Mon- 
tana, to  my  notion,  that  would  touch  a  hair  of 
their  heads,  while  they'd  shoot  down  a  man  en- 
gaged in  the  same  business  and  be  glad  of  the 
chance.  They'll  try  to  run  off  the  stock,  like 
enough  time  and  again  ;  but  they'll  do  it  on  the 
sly,  as  they  tried  to  this  time.  If  it  hadn't 
chanced  that  you  got  up  there  before  they  got 


152  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

to  work,  your  sheep  would  a'  been  gone,  and 
you  none  the  wiser.  When  I  said  that  you'd 
think  me  a  coward,  I  was  goin'  on  to  say  further 
that  while  I  wouldn't  be  a  mite  afraid  to  have 
the  young  ladies  take  charge  of  the  herd  as  far 
as  their  safety  went,  I'd  be  some  afraid  to  do  it 
myself.  You  see  herding  and  cattle  ranching 
ain't  my  business  and  they  all  know  it.  They'd 
be  uncommon  blazing  mad  at  me  if  I  was  known 
to  take  a  hand  in  this ;  not  but  what  I'm  going 
to,  all  right,  and  I'll  take  my  chances,  too. 
Roy  Jo —  the  cattlemen  don't  own  all  of  Mon- 
tana yet." 

Rome  had  the  horse  saddled  and  ready  by  this 
time ;  he  swung  himself  into  the  saddle  with  the 
last  words,  gathered  up  the  reins,  but  waited  to 
say,  "  Felix  may  have  the  sheep  corralled  some- 
where in  the  mountains  so  that  it  won't  be  much 
trouble  to  get  them ;  it  all  depends  on  whether 
he  was  followed  or  not — "  And  instantly  there 
flashed  upon  my  mind  a  lonely,  touching  pic- 
ture of  the  collie  holding  his  charges  by  sheer 
force  of  will  somewhere  off  in  the  mountain 


A   STAMPEDED    FLOCK  153 

fastnesses  and  watching  through  weary  hours 
for  the  help  that  did  not  come — "  if  they  were 
followed  far  and  scared  bad  it  may  take  two  or 
three  days  to  gather  up  what  is  left ;  anyway, 
don't  look  for  me  till  you  see  me." 

What  a  change  came  over  Luck  with  this 
stalwart  rider  on  his  back ;  the  subdued,  care- 
ful air,  the  painstaking  planting  of  the  feet 
where  there  was  no  possible  danger  of  slipping 
was  cast  aside.  With  a  man's  knees  gripping 
his  sides,  caution  was  no  more  for  him  ;  he 
tossed  his  head  and  defied  the  trail.  I  was  ob- 
serving this  rather  enviously  as  horse  and  rider 
started,  when  Aunt  Matilda  called  suddenly, 
"  Wait,  wait !"  Home  came  cantering  back. 

"  The  Mexican's  blanket,"  she  said  ;  "  Felix 
may  take  you  for  an  enemy." 

I  had  brought  the  poncho  home  and  was 
bringing  it  out  from  the  kitchen  by  the  time 
aunt's  explanation  was  finished.  Rome  tied  it 
securely  to  the  saddle. 

"That  was  a  mighty  good  thought,  Miss 
Stanley.  You've  got  too  good  a  head  to  be 


154  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

driven  from  the  country  by  a  lot  of  low-down 
sneaks  that  want  the  earth  for  themselves." 

As  horse  and  man  clattered  out  of  sight 
down  the  trail,  a  voice  from  the  shadow  of  the 
adjoining  haystack  inquired,  "  Isn't  he  good  ?" 
It  was  Florence,  who  had  been  listening  quietly 
to  our  talk,  and  had  received  a  large  share 
of  enlightenment. 

"  I  suppose  it  comes  of  living  in  the  mount- 
ains; he's  like  me,  ashamed  to  be  small  and 
mean  before  them ;  not  but  what  I'm  all  of  that, 
but  I  am  often  ashamed  of  it." 

"  It's  a  pity  that  their  companionship  don't 
affect  some  others  in  the  same  way,"  I  said, 
thinking  of  the  note  we  had  found  in  the  cabin 
and  of  the  stampede. 

"  As  to  that,"  put  in  Aunt  Matilda,  pausing, 
with  her  hand  on  the  door-knob — we  had 
reached  the  house — "  it's  another  illustration 
of  the  old  saying,  '  Except  the  Lord  do  build 
the  house,  the  builders  build  in  vain.'  If  there's 
nothing  in  a  person  to  be  brought  out,  it's  a 
waste  of  time  to  fish  for  it." 


A   STAMPEDED    FLOCK  155 

When  we  went  in  father  was  crouching  over 
the  kitchen  stove,  and  in  answer  to  aunt's  in- 
quiry if  he  were  cold,  he  admitted  that  he  was, 
decidedly.  "  It's  an  uncommonly  chilly  night, 
I  believe,"  he  added.  It  was  not,  but  aunt  did 
not  say  so ;  instead,  she  brought  out  a  bundle 
of  boneset  that  she  had  taken  pains  to  procure 
a  few  days  before,  and  set  a  quantity  of  the 
leaves  to  brewing ;  presently  the  pungent,  pene- 
trating odor  of  boneset  tea  filled  the  room. 

"  Come  to  the  fire  and  get  warm,  girls,"  father 
called  to  us,  as  we  were  about  going  into  the 
next  room. 

"  I'm  not  cold,"  said  Florence,  going  to  his 
side.  "  Are  you  cold  yet,  papa  ?" 

"Cold  all  the  way  through,  Flossie;  I'm 
afraid  I'm  as  unfit  for  a  shepherd  physically  as 
I  seem  to  be  mentally." 

Florence  threw  back  her  head  with  a  burst 
of  soft  laughter.  "  Papa,  I'm  so  sorry  that 
you  got  so  wet  and  uncomfortable,  but  I'm 
just  wicked  enough  to  think  it  was  perfectly 
delightful  to  see  you  gazing  up  into  the 


156  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

clouds  and  admiring  those  small  white  animals 
disappearing  over  the  mountain  top,  when 
those  small  white  animals  were  the  very 
things  we  were  there  to  watch  and  keep  within 
limits." 

"  I'm  glad  if  you  can  extract  any  amusement 
out  of  it,  child,"  said  father  ruefully,  as  he 
stretched  his  hands  over  the  stove.  "  I  begin 
to  fear  that  we  will  find  sheep  ranching  a  far 
more  serious  business  than  we  had  at  first 
thought  it  to  be." 

"  Don't  get  discouraged,  Hugh,  over  one 
afternoon's  mishaps,"  aunt  advised  him  cheer- 
fully. "  Come  ;  here's  your  tea,"  she  extended 
a  bowl  of  the  unpalatable  smelling  decoction 
toward  him ;  he  stretched  out  his  hand  for  it 
reluctantly.  Father  hated  medicine,  and  Flor- 
ence and  I,  knowing  what  a  struggle  was  prob- 
ably before  Aunt  Matilda,  lingered  in  the 
doorway,  watching  them.  It  would  have  been 
better  to  go. 

"  Stay,"  cried  father,  struck  with  a  sudden 
thought.  "  Matilda,  the  girls  had  better  drink 


A   STAMPEDED    FLOCK  157 

that ;  they  need  it  more  than  I,  they  were  wet, 
too,  you  know.  Elsie,  Florence,  come  and 
drink  this.  It's  a  tonic,  a  corrective,  that  you 
both  need." 

"  I — really — I  don't  feel  that  I  need  it  to- 
night, father,"  I  said,  edging  away,  "  if  Flossie 
feels  that  she  needs  it — " 

"  I  don't ;  and  it  would  be  selfish  to  take  it 
from  you,  father,"  Florence  declared  virtuously. 

"  As  to  that ;  I  made  a  whole  potful.  There's 
enough  for  you  all,"  said  Aunt  Matilda.  "I 
think  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  drink  some, 
too." 

So  that  was  what  we  got  for  our  curiosity. 
Father,  who  must  have  hoped  when  he  pro- 
posed our  drinking  the  nauseous  mixture,  that 
there  was  no  more  of  it,  and  that  he  would  thus 
escape,  watched  with  sympathetic  interest  while 
we  gulped  down  the  horrid  mess,  and  then,  with 
a  shudder,  hastily  swallowed  his  own  portion. 
Vevie,  who  had  been  viewing  the  little  comedy 
with  solemn  interest,  suddenly  snatched  up  a 
towel  and  began  wiping  the  feet  of  the  grey- 


158  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

hound,  who  was,  as  usual,  stretched  out  beside 
her. 

"  There,  aunty,"  she  cried,  desisting  from  her 
labors.  "  Now  Calif  won't  have  to  take  any  of 
that — stuff.  He  gotted  his  feet  wet,  but  they 
are  all  dry  now." 

"  Don't  worry  about  him,"  father  counseled 
her  with  a  groan  which  seemed  but  the  outward 
expression  of  the  bitterness  he  had  just  swal- 
lowed. "  Any  self-respecting  dog  like  Calif 
would  prefer  death  to  boneset  tea." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS 

IN  the  seclusion  of  our  own  room  that  night 
I  told  Florence  of  what  we  had  heard  from 
Rome  as  to  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  sheep 
ranching  in  a  cattle  country. 

"  Well,  if  that  is  all  true,  Elsie,  he  is  putting 
himself  into  a  good  deal  of  danger  by  siding 
with  us." 

"  I  suppose  he  is,  Florence  ;  ne  says  as  much 
himself.  But  what  can  we  do  ?" 

"We  can  try  not  to  be  cowards,  Elsie.  We 
know  how  much  depends  on  keeping  this  ranch  ; 
I  believe  that  father's  life,  as  well  as  our  home, 
depends  on  it.  We  must  take  care  of  the  sheep." 

"  It  will  be  a  hard  task,  Flossie,  it  would  be 
that,  even  if  we  knew  anything  about  the  busi- 
ness ;  which  we  don't." 

"  We  can  learn ;  here  we  are,  two  healthy, 
active,  fairly  well-educated  girls.  Can't  we 

159 


160  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

learn  to  care  for  the  sheep,  to  superintend  the 
shearing,  to  market  the  '  clip,'  as  I  heard 
Rome  call  it,  to  look  out  pasturage,  to  provide 
shelter  in  bad  weather,  just  as  well  as  a  lot  of 
ignorant  Mexicans?"  demanded  Florence, 
whose  spirit  was  aroused. 

"  The  Mexicans  have  been  bred  to  the  busi- 
ness for  generations,"  I  reminded  her  feebly. 

"This  is  an  age  of  progress;  I  mean  to 
assimilate  all  the  sheep  lore  of  the  shepherds  in 
one  working  season." 

"  Where  shall  we  find  the  shepherd  to  act  as 
teacher  ?  We  have  no  really  competent  author- 
ity to  apply  to  save  Felix." 

"  And  Rome,"  she  reminded  me  quietly. 

"  Yes,  and  Rome ;  what  he  doesn't  know 
already  he  will  find  out  for  us  in  some  way  if 
he  has  to  perch  on  a  Mexican's  roof  to  learn  it. 
You  make  me  feel  stronger,  Flossie ;  I  had  not 
for  a  moment  thought  of  giving  up,  but  it  is 
such  a  comfort  to  know  that  you  feel  as  you  do 
about  it."  We  were  silent  after  that,  but  I 
knew  that  her  thoughts  as  well  as  mine  were 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS  161 

going  out  prayerfully  toward  the  lost  sheep  and 
the  wandering  shepherd  in  the  wilderness. 

Father  was  so  much  worse  in  the  morning  that 
he  decided  to  remain  in  bed  instead  of  getting 
up  for  breakfast  and,  in  the  end,  he  stayed  there 
all  day.  It  was  a  dismal  day.  We  watched 
and  listened  anxiously,  hour  after  hour,  from 
sunrise  to  sunset  for  some  sight  or  sound  that 
should  tell  us  how  Rome  was  faring,  but  no 
tidings  came.  Father  was  made  so  much  worse 
by  the  anxiety  and  uncertainty — although  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  actual  danger  in  which 
our  friend  stood — that  by  nightfall  his  thin 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  fever.  It  was  in  vain 
that  we  reminded  him  of  what  Rome  had  said 
about  the  difficulty  of  gathering  together  a 
flock  of  frightened  sheep  ;  and  that  Rome  had 
said  he  might  be  long  delayed.  I  suppose  his 
illness  rendered  him  more  nervous  than  usual, 
but  again,  and  yet  again  we  saw  cause  to  be 
thankful  for  Aunt  Matilda's  tender  foresight  in 
keeping  the  knowledge  of  the  bitter  truth  from 
him. 

11 


162  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Vevie  had  her  share  of  trials  on  that  unhappy 
day  as  well  as  the  rest.  To  divert  her  attention 
from  too  strict  inquiry  into  the  cause  of  the 
cloud  that,  ohviously,  hung  over  the  rest  of  the 
family,  aunt  had  told  her  how  to  make  a  cake, 
and  father,  always  singularly  watchful  of  Vevie 
and  all  that  concerned  her,  no  matter  what  else 
he  might  have  in  mind,  had  awakened  to  a  well- 
simulated  interest  in  the  prospective  dainty.  It 
was  worth  while  to  see  the  pretty  creature's  en- 
thusiasm over  the  task,  the  solemnity  of  her 
childish  face,  and  the  frequent  whispered  con- 
sultations with  aunt,  for  the  triumph  of  cookery 
was  to  be  a  secret  from  Florence  and  me — she 
would  not  even  pretend  to  a  secret  from  father 
and  Calif — but  late  in  the  afternoon  she  came 
in  from  a  series  of  frequent  dashes  out-of-doors, 
with  a  downcast  air  and  quivering  lip. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  my  blossom  ?"  asked 
father. 

"  Not  much,  papa ;  they  needn't  think  I  care," 
nodding  her  head  in  defiance  of  some  invisible 
enemy,  "  but  when  I  had  got  the  cake  all  done — 


THE    WHIP-POOR-WILLS  163 

and  it  looked  so  nice,  I  wanted  it  to  get  cool  quick 
— so  I  put  it  out  on  that  big  rock  and — some  of 
those  long-tailed  birds  that  are  always  flying 
around  and  making  fun  of  Calif  and  I,  flew 
down  and  ate  it — there  was  nothing  left  but 
crumbs." 

"  Nothing  left  but  crumbs  ?"  repeated  father 
with  an  involuntary  sigh — "  credit  that  on  the 
side  of  experience,  my  darling;  you'll  know 
better  than  to  place  your  feast  within  range  of  a 
magpie  next  time." 

Florence  and  I  went  out  a  little  after  nightfall 
to  listen  again  for  some  sound  on  the  upper  trail. 
The  stars  were  shining  in  a  cloudless  sky ; 
seeming  very  near  and  large,  at  that  high  alti- 
tude. The  swirling  rush  of  the  hurrying  river 
was  distinctly  audible  above  the  long  sigh  of  the 
night  wind  that  played  a  never-ceasing  melody 
in  pine  forests  up  on  the  mountain  sides.  A 
beautiful,  peaceful  scene  it  all  made  but  with  an 
underlying  note  of  melancholy,  which  became 
more  pronounced  as  a  new  sound  broke  the 
stillness.  A  far,  faint,  lonely  call,  the  evening 


164  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

song  of  the  mountain  night-hawk,  "whip- whip- 
will,  whip-whip-will  I"  it  whistled  plaintively. 

"That's  different  from  our  Eastern  night- 
hawks,"  remarked  Florence,  listening.  "  Do  you 
notice,  Elsie,  the  Eastern  bird  says  '  whip-poor- 
will,'  but  this  one  doesn't  own  up  to  any  sym- 
pathy for  Will ;  he  only  insists  on  his  being 
whipped." 

"  How  many  of  them  there  are  to-night,  and 
all  in  different  directions,"  I  said.  "  It  sounds 
almost  as  though  they  were  signaling  to  each 
other,  doesn't  it?" 

When  we  re-entered  the  house  we  found  father 
asleep  and  Aunt  Matilda  stepping  softly  to  and 
fro,  intent  on  household  tasks,  while  Vevie  sat 
before  the  open  fire,  into  which  she  gazed,  appa- 
rently lost  in  thought.  There  was  not  an  evening, 
even  in  midsummer,  when  that  cheerful  blaze 
was  not  welcome. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Vevie  ?"  asked 
Florence. 

"  I  was  wondering  what  God  let  us  come  to 
this  place  for,"  she  replied  sadly.  "  I  s'pose  He 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS  165 

could  have  stopped  us  if  He  hadn't  wanted  us 
to  come,  but  I  don't  believe  He  really  knew  how 
lonesome  it  is." 

"  Yes  He  did,  Vevie,  He  has  something  for  us 
all  to  do  in  this  valley  as  well  as  in  the  crowded 
city,"  Aunt  Matilda  told  her,  pausing  on  her 
way  to  the  kitchen,  with  a  tray  in  her  hand. 

"  But  there  were  peoples  to  do  for,  back  home, 
Aunt  Mattie,"  persisted  Vevie,  "  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve God  cares  very  much  for  the  peoples  out 
here,  anyway  ;  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  Him  !" 

"  Why,  Vevie,  child !     What  a  speech !" 

"  Is  it  what  a  speech  ?"  she  asked  wistfully. 
"  I  didn't  mean  it  to  be ;  I  was  thinking  of  the 
man  that  stopped  and  talked  to  me  to-day,  I 
didn't  like  him  a  bit;  and  Calif  growled  and 
growled." 

"  What  man,  who  talked  with  you,  child,  and 
where  and  how?"  demanded  Aunt  Matilda, 
startled. 

"  Down  on  the  footbridge." 

"Vevie,  did  you  go  on  that  shaky  bridge 
with  no  one  in  sight  ?" 


166  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

"  Yes,  auntie,  you  didn't  tell  me  not  to." 

"No,  I  didn't;  I  never  thought  of  such  a 
thing  as  your  going  there  alone.  Why  it 
makes  me  tremble  to  think  of  it !" 

"  The  man  told  me  I'd  better  not  stand  there," 
Vevie  admitted,  with  her  eyes  again  on  the  fire, 
"  he  said  that  I  would  fall  in  and  get  drown- 
ded— " 

"  Drowned,  Vevie,"  corrected  Florence. 

"  No  ;  drownded  ;  that  was  what  he  said ;  I 
guess  it's  drownded  out  here — then  he  asked  if  I 
wasn't  one  of  the  Stanley  kids,  and  I  said  if  you 
mean,  am  I  Mr.  Stanley's  little  girl ;  yes,  I  am. 
Then  he  kind  of  laughed — not  a  nice  laugh,  and 
said,  '  Wai,  you'd  better  come  offen  that  bridge, 
Missy,  it's  tolerable  unsafe,  and  your  folks  is 
going  to  have  considerable  trouble  ;  they'll  have 
enough  to  keep  'em  busy  without  throwin'  in  a 
drownded  young  one,'  I  wouldn't  have  come  off 
the  bridge  then  if  it  had  dropped  from  under 
me,"  the  child  added,  with  a  sparkle  in  the 
brown  eyes — "  I  wondered  what  he  meant 
by  saying  that  my  folks  was  goin'  to  have 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS  167 

trouble  ;  but  I  wouldn't  ask  him  ;  so  I  just  held 
on  to  Calif's  collar  to  make  him  let  the  man 
alone,  until  finally  he  rode  off.  I  guess  I  know 
now,  though,  what  he  meant  by  saying  that  this 
wasn't  a  healthy  altitude  for  a  man  like  papa ; 
he  prob'ly  knew  that  papa  got  wet  and  took 
cold." 

"  He  might  have  said  that  the  altitude  wasn't 
healthy,"  observed  Florence,  with  a  firm, 
straight  line  cutting  across  the  soft  curve  of 
her  red  lips.  "  But  I  am  quite  sure  we  will  be 
able  to  convince  him  of  his  mistake,  whoever  he 
may  be." 

"  No ;  Flossie,  the  man  was  right ;  I  hope 
papa  will  be  better  to-morrow." 

"  I  guess  he  will ;  and  we  must  coax  him  to 
stay  at  home  with  you  after  this." 

"  Yes ;  I  always  take  such  good  care  of  him," 
she  said,  with  a  tired  little  yawn.  "I  did  want 
to  hear  you  sing  some  to-night,  Flossie,"  she 
continued,  "  but  I  s'pose  you  are  too  tired." 

This  was  so  often  Florence's  excuse  for  not 
gratifying  poor  Vevie,  who  was  passionately 


168  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

fond  of  music,  that  it  was  an  agreeable  surprise 
when  she  answered  readily — though  to-night, 
if  ever,  she  might  well  have  pleaded  weariness 
— "  I  think  I've  got  strength  enough  for  a  song 
or  two,  Vevie,  unless  papa  is  asleep  and  the 
singing  will  disturb  him." 

"He  is  asleep,"  announced  Aunt  Matilda, 
re-entering  at  this  moment  with  a  tray  of 
untouched  food,  and  carefully  closing  the  door 
after  her,  "  but  your  singing  won't  disturb  him. 
You  know  he  never  awakes  for  any  unusual 
noise." 

"  Unusual  noise !"  murmured  Florence,  taking 
her  seat  at  the  organ  and  running  lightly  over 
the  keys.  "  What  shall  it  be,  Vevie  ?" 

"That  man  to-day  made  me  think  of  the 
song  I  want ;  only,  I  can't  remember  its  name," 
replied  Vevie,  knitting  her  baby  brows  in  per- 
plexity. 

"I  shouldn't  have  thought  he'd  have  re- 
minded you  of  anything  pleasant,"  Florence 
told  her. 

"  It  wasn't  anything  that  he  said  ;  it  was  what 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS  169 

he  whistled  as  he  was  riding  away.  Wait !  I 
can  whistle  it." 

As  she  could  whistle  any  tune,  bird  song,  or 
unusual  call  that  she  had  ever  heard  we  listened 
with  interest  to  hear  what  note  of  the  rough 
stranger  had  so  attracted  her  attention.  Hark ! 
Was  that  really  the  child  whistling,  or  was  it 
the  faint,  far-heard  cry  of  a  night  bird  in  the 
lonely  dusk  of  the  mountain  twilight.  "  Whip- 
whip-will,  whip-whip-will."  Florence  looked 
at  me,  over  Vevie's  head,  with  startled  eyes,  and 
I  recalled  the  words  I  had  so  lately  spoken  : 
"  It  seems  almost  as  though  they  were  signaling 
to  each  other." 

"  The  song  you  are  thinking  of  is  this,"  said 
Florence,  breaking  abruptly  into  it.  Vevie 
took  up  the  air  and  whistled  a  low  accompani- 
ment to  "  When  I  hear  the  first  whip-poor- 
will's  song." 

"  Now  the  '  Ninety  and  Nine/  please,"  she 
said  as  the  song  ended. 

Florence  sang  it  magnificently,  gloriously,  as 
she  always  does,  until  she  came  to  the  words 


170  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"Away  in  the  mountains,  wild  and  bare, 
Away  from  the  tender  Shepherd's  care," 

then  she  stopped  suddenly.  Vevie  did  not  ask 
her  to  continue ;  instead,  she  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  "  It's  a  nice  night,"  she  said. 
"  I  hope  Mr.  Kome  won't  get  lost  in  the  moun- 
tains ;  I  don't  s'pose  he  will ;  he  told  me  one 
day  that  he  knew  them  real  well.  He  said  he 
could  find  his  way  along  a  trail  the  darkest 
night  that  ever  was,  just  by  feeling  with  his 
feet.  He's  got  such  great  big  feet ;  they'll  last 
a  long  time.  I  said  to  him,  when  he  told  me 
that,  that  he  had  got  awful  nice  great  feet,  and 
he  said  he'd  have  been  a  good  deal  taller  if  there 
hadn't  been  so  much  of  him  turned  up  to  make 
them.  I  told  him  I  should  think  he'd  be  glad 
there  was ;  he's  so  tall  now.  I'm  going  to  kiss 
papa  good-night  and  go  to  bed,"  she  concluded 
abruptly. 

"  Don't  wake  him,"  Aunt  Matilda  cautioned 
her. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I'll  kiss  him  so  softly  he'll  dream  it's 
thistle  down  drifting  over  his  cheeks,  see."  She 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS  171 

caught  up  a  handful  of  her  long  fair,  misty  look- 
ing hair  in  each  hand,  and,  spreading  her  arms  out 
and  upward,  like  a  pair  of  wings,  danced  lightly 
across  the  floor  and  into  the  adjoining  room.  "  I 
didn't  wake  him,"  she  said,  reappearing  a  mo- 
ment after.  "  I'm  tired,  auntie,  I  guess  I'll  rest 
in  your  lap  a  little  while."  She  climbed  into 
Aunt  Matilda's  lap,  and,  in  less  than  half  a 
minute  was  fast  asleep  with  her  head  pillowed 
on  her  aunt's  shoulder.  Aunt  put  her  to  bed 
and  Florence  and  I  soon  followed. 

Florence  was  soon  asleep,  as  I  could  tell  from 
her  regular  breathing,  but  I  was  too  anxious, 
too  much  alarmed,  and  lay  awake,  finding  a  new 
cause  of  uneasiness  in  the  careless  notes  that 
Vevie's  rough  visitor  had  accidentally  whistled. 
Was  it  an  accident  ?  It  might  be  a  mere  coin- 
cidence. We  knew  so  little  of  the  mountains. 
It  might  be  quite  the  usual  thing,  so  far  as  we 
could  tell,  for  a  band  of  night  birds  to  call  to 
each  other  in  the  mountain  solitudes,  but,  some- 
how, the  wild  notes,  coupled  with  the  inexplic- 
able stampede  of  the  sheep,  the  ominous  letter 


172  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

found  in  the  herder's  cabin,  the  desertion  of  the 
herders  themselves,  and  the  threatening  proph- 
ecy of  Vevie's  unknown  interviewer  seemed 
to  have  a  sinister  significance.  I  tossed  from 
side  to  side,  unable  to  sleep,  longing  feverishly 
for  morning.  I  became  aware,  too,  as  the  night 
wore  on,  that  Aunt  Matilda  was  passing  an 
equally  restless  night.  At  length,  unable  to 
bear  the  silence  longer,  I  slipped  on  a  wrapper 
and  crept  softly  into  Aunt  Matilda's  room.  She 
was  lying  down,  although  I  had  so  lately  heard 
her  moving  about.  Vevie,  who  slept  with  her, 
was  prone  to  awaken  in  terror  if  left  alone,  so 
Aunt  Matilda  said  in  a  whisper : 

"Is  that  you,  Elsie?" 

"  Yes ;  I  cannot  sleep." 

"  Neither  can  I ;  it's  silly,  I'm  sure  to  be  so 
distressed  ;  we'll  wear  ourselves  out  for  nothing ; 
it  will  do  Rome  no  good  for  us  to  lie  awake,  but 
it's  of  no  use  to  try  to  sleep.  I  can  think  of 
nothing  else.  Oh,  I'm  so  thankful  that  your 
father  doesn't  know — he  must  know,  though  if 
we  don't  get  the  sheep  again ;  it  will  ruin  us. 


THE   WHIP-POOR-WILLS  173 

But  there !  I  will  not  worry.  God  will  care 
for  us ;  sheep  or  no  sheep." 

"  And  the  stars  are  so  near  up  here  in  the 
mountains ;  God  doesn't  seem  very  far  away," 
I  whispered,  going  to  the  window  and  pushing 
up  the  shade  as  I  spoke.  The  window  faced 
toward  the  mountain  that  she  and  I  had  so  re- 
cently climbed.  It  loomed  before  me,  black 
and  vague  as  to  its  base,  but  with  the  outlines 
of  its  crest  startlingly  distinct  against  a  vivid, 
lurid  glow  that  revealed  the  stunted  firs  and 
ragged  jack  oaks  fringing  its  rocky  head.  Even 
the  jumbled  masses  of  rock  were  silhouetted  in 
sharp  black  lines  upon  the  ominous  background. 
I  uttered  a  low  exclamation  that  brought  Aunt 
Matilda  to  my  side. 

"  There's  a  fire  over  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain,"  I  whispered. 

"  Yes ;  it's  certainly  in  the  valley  where  we 
kept  our  sheep ;  pray  God  that  Rome  is  safe, 
whatever  becomes  of  them." 

I  thought  of  the  song  of  the  whip-poor-wills, 
and  doubted  it. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ROUNDING    UP    UNDER   DIFFICULTIES 

THE  next  day  Florence  and  I  rode  over  to 
the  store  to  inquire  of  Mr.  Davis — who  knew 
everybody  and  where  they  lived — as  to  where 
we  should  go  to  find  a  Mexican  herder  on  his 
native  heath ;  and  while  he  was  giving  us 
minute,  but  extremely  confusing  direction  as  to 
"  draws,"  "  canofis,"  "  blind  trails,"  and  "  the 
far  side  of  yon  hogback,"  his  daughter  Etta,  a 
bright  girl  of  sixteen,  came  out  and  joined  in 
the  conversation.  "Can  either  of  you  talk 
Mexican?"  she  asked.  We  were  obliged  to 
confess  that  we  could  not.  The  little  moun- 
tain maid  laughed  as  gleefully  as  Florence  her- 
self might  have  done  had  our  positions  been 
reversed.  "  How  do  you  expect  to  make  them 
understand  you,  then  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  I  thought  we  might  come  across  some  one 
among  them  who  could  interpret  for  us,"  I  said 
174 


ROUNDING   UP   UNDER    DIFFICULTIES       175 

feeling  the  weakness  of  the  admission,  which 
was  a  virtual  acknowledgment  that  we  expected 
more  of  these  ignorant  people  than  we  could  do 
ourselves. 

"  You  might ;  then  again  you  might  not," 
Miss  Etta  declared  frankly.  "  I'll  tell  you  how 
we'll  fix  it ;  I'll  go  with  you  ;  may  I,  father  ?" 
The  question  appeared  to  be  an  after- thought ; 
she  was  so  sure  of  doing  as  she  pleased  in  the 
matter.  Mr.  Davis  scratched  his  rough  head, 
and  displayed  a  hesitation  that  evidently 
amazed  his  daughter. 

"  You  won't  need  me  in  the  store  to-day,"  she 
reminded  him ;  "  Don  is  at  home,  and  he's 
worth  two  of  me  any  day,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  don't  know  it.  Of  course,  you  can 
go  if  you  want  to.  I  am  willing  to  oblige  a 
neighbor,  of  course." 

"  You  don't  show  it  very  plain  to-day,"  his 
daughter  informed  him  with  perfect  candor. 

"Well,  I  am,"  the  storekeeper  insisted.  "  You 
don't  know  everything  in  the  world  yet,  Etta. 
But  never  mind ;  you'll  learn.  Here,  Jim, 


176  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

saddle  up  Etta's  pony,  and  be  lively ;  company's 
waiting." 

We  had  met  Etta  Davis  several  times.  She 
was  a  gay,  good-hearted  girl,  seemingly  always 
ready  for  a  frolic.  Perhaps  she  regarded  the 
enterprise  that  we  could  not  help  looking  on  as 
little  short  of  tragedy  as  a  kind  of  frolic,  too, 
for  she  laughed  and  chatted  as  blithely  when 
we  rode  away  from  the  tenth  Mexican  house, 
burdened  with  the  tenth  polite  refusal  to  work 
for  us,  as  when  we  first  started.  She  was  a 
ready  interpreter,  and,  of  course,  understood 
quite  well  that  we  were  meeting  with  nothing 
but  disappointment.  However,  if  she  felt  any 
sympathy  for  us  she  was  careful  not  to  put  it  in 
evidence.  Mr.  Davis  had  suggested  that  we 
should  call  on  Roy  Jones'  wife  on  our  way  back 
from  the  Mexican  settlement.  "You'll  be 
riding  right  by  the  house,  and  it  won't  be  noth- 
ing more  than  neighborly  to  drop  in,"  he  urged. 
Florence  and  I  did  not  feel  much  inclined  for 
missionary  work  that  day,  but  as  Etta  reminded 
us,  on  coming  in  sight  of  Mr.  Jones'  cabin,  of 


BOUNDING    UP   UNDER    DIFFICULTIES       177 

her  father's  request,  we  could  do  no  less  than 
dismount  and  ask  admission.  The  door  was 
opened  by  Mr.  Jones  himself.  He  appeared  to 
be  rather  backward  about  asking  us  in,  but  the 
feeble  voice  of  his  wife  called  from  the  adjoin 
ing  room,  "Ain't  one  o'  them  that  Miss  Stanley 
that  sings,  Koy  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  replied  the  man,  eying  that  Miss 
Stanley  who  sang  with  anything  but  a  welcom- 
ing expression. 

"  Oh,  do  tell  her  to  come  right  in ;  I  want  her 
to  sing;  I'm  so  tired,  'pears  like  I  shall  die.  I 
want  her  to  sing !" 

There  was  something  hysterical  in  the 
plaintive  reiteration.  The  black-browed  ranch- 
man loved  his  wife.  He  invited  us  in  with 
surly  courtesy,  and  Florence  sang  song  after 
song  for  the  woman  who  lay  listening  with 
closed  eyes,  her  starved  soul  lifted  for  the  time 
far  above  the  wearing  anguish  of  her  suffering 
body.  Etta  Davis  even  listened  without  a  com- 
ment, though,  as  we  made  a  move  to  go,  she 
observed,  "  You  can  sing  awful  pretty ;  I  never 
12 


178  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

heard  any  one  sing  so  good  before.  I'd  be  most 
afraid  to  have  such  a  nice  voice,  for  fear  that 
something  would  happen  to  it." 

"  I  reckon  I'd  cry  my  eyes  out  if  anything 
should  happen  to  hurt  that  voice,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Jones,  feebly.  We  parted  with  Miss  Davis  at 
her  own  door,  thanking  her  warmly  for  her 
assistance  and  offering  to  pay  her,  which  was  as 
much  of  a  mistake,  in  its  way,  as  it  had  been 
not  to  offer  to  pay  Mr.  Seaton  on  another  occa- 
sion. Etta  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of 
offended  dignity.  "  I  never  thought  of  such  a 
thing  as  your  paying  me,"  she  declared,  her 
cheeks  flushing.  "  I  just  went  to  oblige  you, 
and  for  fun."  Florence  made  a  suitable  and 
becoming  apology  for  misunderstanding  her, 
and  Etta,  appeased,  said,  "  I've  had  an  awful 
good  time.  I  think  you're  real  good  company, 
both  of  you,  and  I'll  go  with  you  again  to-mor- 
row if  you  want  me  to." 

"  Would  it  be  of  any  use  ?  Are  there  any 
more  Mexicans  to  visit  ?"  I  asked. 

Mr.  Davis  had  drawn   near  as  we  rode  up, 


ROUNDING    UP    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES       179 

and  we  had  already  told  him  where  we  had 
been.  He  replied  in  his  daughter's  stead. 
"  There  are  a  few  more  families  in  the  valley, 
but  it  won't  do  no  good  to  go  to  them ;  you'll 
only  be  wasting  time.  I'll  tell  you  what  to 
do.  You  want  a  couple  of  sheep  herders. 
Well,  now,  lots  of  Mexicans  come  to  my  store ; 
that's  how  Etta  here  come  to  talk  their  lingo. 
We  had  to  have  some  one  who  could  do  it,  and 
she  could  be  spared  as  easy  as  any  one,"  with  a 
humorous  glance  at  the  girl,  who,  conscious  of 
her  value,  smiled,  but  said  nothing.  "  You  just 
leave  notice  here  at  the  store  that  you  want  a 
couple  of  herders,  and  they'll  all  get  wind  of  it 
before  a  week's  out.  Then,  if  any  of  them  want 
the  job  they'll  call  and  see  you  about  it."  This 
was  such  sensible  counsel  that  we  agreed  to  it  at 
once.  And  that  ended  our  search  for  a  herder 
and  insured  our  own  initiation  into  the  business, 
for  no  one  ever  came  to  apply  for  the  "job,"  as 
the  storekeeper  was  probably  quite  confident 
that  they  would  not. 

In   the  dusk   of  the  evening,  two  or  three 


IftO  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

hours  after  our  return,  Rome  rode  up  to  the 
door,  tossed  the  reins  of  jaded-looking  Luck  to 
Johnny,  who  hastened  out  to  meet  him,  and 
strode  into  the  sitting-room  to  give  his  report. 

"  I  got  most  of  'em,"  he  said  briefly.  "  Yes, 
they're  all  right ;  jest  as  right  as  can  be,"  he 
continued,  as  the  door  of  father's  room  opened 
and  he  came  out  wrapped  in  his  dressing-gown, 
and  with  an  anxious  flush  on  his  cheeks,  to  hear 
the  report.  "There  ain't  many  lost,  and  we 
didn't  have  much  trouble  ;  not  any  to  speak 
of."  He  went  on  at  some  length,  detailing  the 
route  he  had  taken,  and  leading  father  to  infer 
that  what  he  had  been  doing  was  scarcely  more 
than  a  little  pleasure  jaunt.  But  later,  when 
father,  whose  cough  was  troublesome  again,  had 
gone  to  bed,  he  admitted  to  us  that  things  were 
not  quite  so  rose-hued  as  he  would  have  father 
believe. 

"  We've  got  'em  corralled  up  there  in  that 
valley  again,  Felix  and  me,"  he  said,  "  and 
Felix  is  about  as  nigh  starved  to  death  and 
worn  out  as  a  dog  can  be  and  live ;  but  he'll 


ROUNDING   UP   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES      181 

keep  them  sheep  all  right  to-night.  He  must 
have  help  early  in  the  morning." 

"  I  will  help  him,"  I  said  in  the  pause  that 
followed.  "  I  am  not  afraid,  if  you  are  not 
afraid  for  me,  Rome."  It  was  the  first  time 
that  I  had  called  him  "  Rome "  to  his  face, 
though  he  was  so  much  to  us  that  we  seldom 
spoke  of  him  in  any  other  way  among  ourselves. 
The  good  fellow  embarrassed  me  by  rising  from 
his  chair,  crossing  the  room,  and  grasping  my 
hand. 

"  Elsie,  you've  got  something  that  ain't 
generally  given  to  women — leastways,  we  don't 
generally  look  for  it  in  them.  You've  got 
courage,  courage,  and  you  need  it."  He  dropped 
my  hand  as  Florence,  coming  swiftly  to  my 
side,  leaned  on  my  shoulder  and  looked  up  at 
him  with  that  sparkling  gleam  of  humor  that 
ran  through  all  her  moods  like  a  golden  thread. 

"  Rome,"  she  said  smilingly,  "  you  might 
squeeze  my  hand,  too  ;  I'm  Elsie's  sister,  and 
she  hasn't  a  monopoly  of  courage ;  I'm  going 
with  her  in  the  morning." 


182  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  declared  Home, 
possessing  himself  of  the  offered  hand.  "  I 
reckon  you're  a  pair."  He  resumed  his  seat, 
rud  Aunt  Matilda  looked  puzzled  at  his  next 
question.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  any  birds  sing- 
ing early  in  the  evening?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Florence  quickly,  "  the 
wh  i  p-poor- wills." 

"  Well,  them  birds  was  two-legged  and  wore 
whiskers  instead  of  feathers.  That  night-hawk 
call  was  the  signal  they  had  given  out  for  col- 
lecting in  the  upper  valley — which  they  did." 
There  was  a  dark  meaning  in  Rome's  short  but 
significant  pause.  "  I  knew  that  them  calls 
meant  mischief,"  he  went  on.  "  You  see  it  ain't 
the  way  of  night-hawks  to  mix  up  in  promis- 
cuous company ;  they're  a  shy  bird.  Maybe, 
along  in  the  edge  of  the  evening,  you'll  hear  one, 
jest  as  the  stars  begin  to  shine  out,  still  and 
solemn.  Beyond  the  top  of  old  Mount  Ken- 
neth, a  single,  far-away  note'll  come  stealing 
down  the  mountain,  for  all  the  world  like  a 
voice  wandering  alone  without  any  body  to  it ; 


ROUNDING    UP   UNDER   DIFFICULTIES       183 

and,  later  on,  the  note  may  be  repeated  from 
some  other  place,  say  a  half-dozen  times,  but 
I've  lived  in  the  San  Coulee  going  on  to  ten 
years  and  I  never  yet  heard  the  whip-poor-wills 
going  on  as  reckless  as  they  did  last  night ;  so, 
as  I  said,  I  was  on  the  lookout  for  mischief. 
You  see,  I  had  had  a  whole  day  to  round  up  the 
flock  before  the  night-hawks  let  themselves  loose. 
I  found  Felix  up  in  the  mountains  standing 
guard  over  a  thousand  of  'em  the  first  night, 
and  I  jest  stayed  there  with  him.  By  nightfall 
of  the  second  day  we  had  gathered  in  nearly 
three  thousand,  which  we  were  getting  back  to 
the  valley,  when  the  night-hawks  started  up.  I 
passed  the  word  to  Felix,  and  we  concluded  to 
let  the  flock  look  out  for  themselves  for  awhile, 
whilst  we  looked  out  for  ourselves.  I  knew  it 
wasn't  going  to  be  healthy  for  me  to  be  found 
herding  them  sheep.  But  it  turned  out  later  that 
Felix  wasn't  wasting  much  time  in  thinking  of 
his  health.  Him  and  the  horse  and  me  jest  set- 
down  where  we  were  and  waited.  It  was  so  dark 
up  in  the  cedar  patch  that  no  one  could  see  us, 


184  THE   GIRL    RAXCHERS 

and  it  wasn't  long  before  there  was  a  commotion 
down  in  the  valley  where  the  sheep  were  hud- 
dled. I  couldn't  make  out  anything  except  that 
they  were  plumb  scared  again,  scattering  in  all 
directions  and  scurrying  away  like  so  many  jack 
rabbits.  Whoever  'twas  that  was  after  'em  must 
a  made  up  their  minds  that  they  might  as  well 
have  some  of  the  mutton  as  for  the  lions  to  be 
getting  it  all ;  at  any  rate,  they  opened  fire  on  the 
fleein'  critters.  Whether  they  killed  any  or  not 
I  couldn't  tell,  but  they  didn't  keep  up  that  game 
long.  I'd  had  hard  work  to  keep  the  collie  still 
when  thesheep first  began  to  scatter,and  when  the 
night-hawks  begun  firing  into  'em,  he  tore  him- 
self loose  from  me — I  was  hanging  to  his  collar 
— and  launched  himself  down  that  mountain 
and  into  the  gully  same's  if  he  was  shot  out  of 
a  cannon.  He  went  right  at  the  night-hawks, 
regardless,  for  in  a  minute  I  heard  some  one 
yell  out,  '  Look  out !  There's  a  mountain  lion  !' 
I've  heard  that  voice  before,  and  another  voice 
that  I  ain't  quite  so  knowing  to,  hollered,  '  It's 
a  sheep  dog !  shoot  him !  shoot  him  !'  and  he 


EOUNDIXG   UP    UNDER   DIFFICULTIES       185 

blazed  away  at  Felix.  I  reckon  I  could  locate 
that  voice,  too,  on  a  pinch,  when  him  and  I  get 
ready  for  the  settlement  that's  coming.  But  the 
other  voice  yelled,  '  Let  up  on  that !  Whoever 
hurts  that  dog  is  going  to  git  hurt  bad  himself, 
now  I  tell  you.'  When  I  have  my  reckoning  up 
with  them  songsters  I'll  remember  that  in  his 
favor,  too.  There  wasn't  any  more  firing  after 
that,  but  Felix  didn't  come  back.  I  was  terrible 
afraid  that  he  was  hurt,  but  I  couldn't  do  any- 
thing until  it  got  light  enough  to  see,  and  then  I 
made  him  out,  standing  guard  over  the  little 
remnant  of  the  flock,  like  a  soldier  alone  on  the 
battle-ground." 

"  And  that's  the  dog  that  I  begrudged  pay- 
ing a  hundred  dollars  for !"  murmured  Aunt 
Matilda.  "And  you  stayed  in  that  uncom- 
fortable place  all  night,"  she  exclaimed  sym- 
pathetically. 

"No,  Miss  Stanley,  I  didn't.  Not  in  that 
uncomfortable  place.  I  wasn't  out  looking  for 
comfortable  places.  I  said  that  I  stayed  there 
till  it  got  light  enough  to  see ;  it  got  light 


186  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

enough  for  that  long  before  morning."  Into 
our  minds  flashed  the  picture  of  the  wild  red 
glow  beyond  the  mountain  top  that  we  had  seen 
last  night.  Aunt  Matilda  nodded.  "Yes,  I 
understand  ;  we  saw  the  fire ;  go  on." 

"  When  the  fire  began  to  make  us  more  visible 
than  I  thought  was  good  for  us,  I  took  hold  of 
the  pony's  bridle  and  sneaked  down  into  the 
gully  where  Felix  was.  I  reckoned  that  the 
sheep  wouldn't  be  disturbed  again  that  night, 
because,  you  see,  them  that  set  the  fire  would 
want  to  be  getting  home  and  to  bed  about  that 
time." 

"  And  the  fire  ?" 

"It  was  the  cabin  where  the  herders  had 
lived — lucky  they  wasn't  in  it ;  'twould  a'  been 
all  the  same  to  them  warblers  if  they  had  been, 
I  reckon." 

"They  mean  to  drive  us  out,  that's  certain," 
said  Aunt  Matilda,  her  face  pale  with  anxiety. 

"Well,  they  hain't  done  it  yet.  Now  I'll 
tell  you  what  to  do  next.  You  say  you  couldn't 
get  no  herders  ?" 


BOUNDING    UP    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES       187 

"  No ;  we  tried  to-day  so  that  if  we  did  have 
any  sheep  left  the  shepherd  would  be  ready,  but 
we  could  not  find  one." 

"  You  never  will ;  give  up  that  idea  and 
buckle  down  to  the  next  best  thing.  To-morrow 
we  three  will  drive  the  flock  out  on  the  plains 
where  they  ought  to  have  been  taken  two 
months  ago.  There'll  be  no  chance  for  whip- 
poor-wills  to  creep  up  on  'em  unbeknown  out 
there." 

"  See  here,  Rome,"  in  her  earnestness  Aunt 
Matilda  laid  her  hand  lightly  on  the  tall  moun- 
taineer's shoulder.  "  You  said  that  you  recog- 
nized the  voices  of  those  men  who  were  down  in 
the  gully  firing  at  the  sheep ;  now  if  you  could 
swear  to  their  identity — " 

Rome  shook  his  head.  "  No,  Miss  Stanley. 
Your  idea  would  be  all  right  back  East ;  it  ain't 
here.  We  don't  want  no  swearing  to  identities. 
But  as  long  as  I  know  and  can  threaten  'em 
with  my  knowledge,  it  gives  me  a  kind  of  hold 
over  'em.  I  can  make  'em  dance  to  the  tune  I 
whistle,  and  I'm  allowing  to  do  considerable 


188  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

whistling  from  this  on.  Now  I  must  be  a  get- 
ting on  up  to  my  cabin  and  tend  to  some  little 
matters  so  that  I  can  leave  to-morrow.  I  shall 
be  on  hand  as  soon  as  it's  light  enough  to  see  ; 
I  don't  want  to  have  the  job  of  collecting  them 
sheep  again  jest  for  the  sake  of  a  morning 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ON    THE   PLAINS 

ROME  was  as  good  as  his  word ;  he  was  on 
hand  before  we  had  finished  breakfast  next 
morning,  although  we  were  breakfasting  by 
lamp  light.  Aunt  Matilda  entreated  him  to 
come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  coffee,  but  he  declined, 
on  the  plea  that  he  had  had  his  breakfast,  and 
"  did  not  want  to  make  any  one  trouble."  It 
was  not  the  first  time  that  we  had  had  occasion 
to  notice  how  strongly  implanted  in  his  breast 
was  the  rustic's  shy  distaste  for  personal  serv- 
ice ;  or,  perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say 
the  solitary's  man's  dislike  to  being  waited  on. 

It  was  not  yet  light  enough  to  enable  one  to 
distinguish  a  sheep  from  a  boulder  when  we 
mounted  our  ponies  and  took  the  trail  for  the 
upper  valley.  I  confess,  that  notwithstanding  I 
had  valiantly  declared  my  readiness  on  the  night 
before  to  go  to  Felix's  aid,  alone,  if  need  be, 

189 


190  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

yet,  since  my  heart  was  literally  in  ray  mouth 
at  every  slight  noise,  it  was  infinitely  comfort- 
ing to  have  this  strong,  courageous  man  beside 
us.  From  the  pallor  of  Florence's  face  as  it 
gleamed  white  against  the  background  of  her 
wide-brimmed  hat,  I  knew  that  she,  too,  was 
suffering  tortures  of  apprehension. 

The  ride  seemed  wild  and  weird  enough  of 
itself  at  that  gray  hour,  without  the  added 
uncertainty  as  to  what  we  might  find  when  we 
reached  the  upper  valley. 

Rome  rode  on  ahead  in  absolute  silence, 
glancing  back  now  and  then  to  make  sure  that 
we  were  following  all  right.  Suddenly  the 
silence  was  broken  by  a  sharp  staccato  call,  not 
unlike  a  high,  gurgling  laugh.  In  an  instant 
the  call  was  taken  up  and  repeated  from  all 
directions  until  the  dewy  aisles  of  the  pine 
forests  seemed  to  echo  and  re-echo  with  peals 
of  mocking  laughter.  The  footfall  of  Florence's 
pony,  that  had  been  following  close  behind  me, 
ceased.  I  glanced  back.  She  had  stopped  her 
horse  and  was  crouching  half-bent  over  the 


ON    THE    PLAINS  191 

saddle,  staring  about  her  with  blanched  face  and 
parted  lips,  a  very  picture  of  helpless,  unreason- 
ing terror.  Of  course  I  stopped  my  horse  the 
instant  that  I  perceived  her  distress,  and  I 
suppose  Rome  missed  my  following  footfall,  as 
I  had  hers.  He  looked  back  inquiringly,  then 
turned  and  made  his  way  to  Florence's  side. 
"  I'm  afraid  you're  scared  of  the  boomers,  Miss 
Stanley,"  he  said,  laying  his  big  hand  with  a 
reassuring  touch  on  the  small  cold  one  that  was 
desperately  clutching  Now  Then's  bridle  ;  "  I 
ought  to  a'  told  you,  but  I'm  so  used  to  the 
sassy  little  rascals  that  I  plumb  forgot  it.  The 
noise  you  hear  is  nothing  but  the  pine  squirrels. 
There's  millions  of  'em,  I  reckon,  and  they're 
so  loud  and  talk  so  big,  'long  about  daylight, 
that  folks  has  give  'em  the  name  of  boomers, 
same's  if  they  was  land  site  speculators.  They've 
got  their  circus  in  full  blast  now." 

"  I  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  Elsie,  that  I'll 
ride  next  to  Home,"  Florence  said,  quivering. 

"  Do,  Flossie ;  my  nerves  are  stronger  than 
yours." 


192  THE   GIKL   RANCHERS 

"That's  all  right,"  Rome  assured  us,  in  a 
very  low  voice ;  "  but  you'll  excuse  me  if  I  don't 
talk  much.  You,  see  Felix's  nerves  is  kind  of 
unstrung,  too,  and  he  ain't  used  to  your  voices, 
so  I  thought  it  best  to  come  on  him  as  gentle  as 
possible.  I  expect  he's  strainin'  his  eyes  by  this 
time  to  see  what's  comin'." 

"  How  can  that  be  ?"  murmured  Florence. 
"  I'm  sure  that  no  dog  that  ever  lived  could 
hear  or  see  us  at  the  distance  we  are  now  from 
the  valley,  and  around  the  shoulder  of  a  moun- 
tain, at  that?" 

It  was,  by  this  time,  light  enough  for  us  to 
see  objects  with  more  or  less  distinctness.  Rome 
lifted  a  hand,  pointing  upward.  "  See  there  ?" 
he  said,  briefly.  There  was  nothing  to  see  save 
a  couple  of  small,  dingy-looking  birds  that  had 
been  flitting  along  above  the  tree-tops  in  advance 
of  us  for  the  past  twenty  minutes,  clamoring  and 
calling  incessantly.  The  birds  were,  as  I  said, 
small,  but  their  voices  were  not. 

"  That's  what  you  might  call  a  good,  compe- 
tent screech,  ain't  it?"  he  whispered,  as  one  of 


ON   THE   PLAINS  193 

them  gave  out  a  peculiarly  piercing  cry.  "  Well, 
them  birds  are  what  we  call  camp-robbers. 
They're  sociable  little  fellers ;  always  hovering 
over  the  trail  and  yelling  their  approval — I 
reckon  it's  approval — when  a  party  comes  up 
into  the  mountains,  especially  if  they  come  kind 
of  quiet,  and  the  birds  think  they  don't  want  to 
be  seen." 

"Why  do  you  think  that  their  cries  mean  that 
they  are  glad  to  have  people  come  ?"  I  asked. 

"They're  kind  o'  used  to  seein'  folks  that  come 
up  this  way  make  camp ;  making  camp  means 
somethi  g  to  eat;  something  to  eat  means  a  feast 
for  Mr.  Camp  Robber,  who  will  flit  around  the 
outskirts  of  the  camp,  screechin'  and  scolding ; 
afeard  there  won't  be  anything  left  for  him  if 
he  don't  let  folks  know  he's  there.  Felix  knows 
that  there's  some  one  comin',or  the  birds  wouldn't 
be  makin'  all  this  fuss.  Follow  close  and  keep 
still  now." 

We  came  upon  Felix  sitting  quietly  at  the 
natural  gateway  at  the  entrance  to  the  valley. 
He  greeted  us  with  a  somewhat  reserved,  doubt- 
13 


194  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

ful  manner.  It  appeared  to  me  that  he  was 
questioning  the  propriety  of  two  young  girls 
being  abroad  in  the  mountain  wilderness  at  that 
hour  of  the  morning.  The  sheep  were  huddled 
together,  showing,  even  to  us,  unmistakable 
signs  of  alarm  and  distress. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  muttered  Rome,  as  I  slipped 
off  Luck's  back  and  laid  before  Felix  the  break- 
fast that  I  had  brought.  "  It's  just  too  bad  that 
these  sheep  have  been  hounded  and  chased  and 
bamboozled  as  they  have ;  it'll  take  'em  a  week 
to  quiet  down  and  get  over  this  scare,  even  on 
the  outside  range ;  I  misdoubt  if  they'd  do  it  at 
all  in  here  now." 

"  I  don't  believe  many  have  been  lost,  do 
you?"  asked  Florence,  her  eye  ranging  hope- 
fully over  the  broad  expanse  of  woolly  backs. 

"  Something  like  two  hundred,  as  near  as  I 
make  it ;  and  you'll  find  that  two  hundred 
makes  a  sizable  hole,  even  in  three  thousand. 
Now  I  reckon  Felix  is  ready,  and  we'll  get  'em 
in  motion." 

Getting   them  in  motion  was  not  at   all   a 


ON    THE    PLAINS  195 

difficult  task ;  the  difficulty  was,  rather,  in  turn- 
ing the  motion  in  the  right  direction  and  keep- 
ing it  there.  It  was  in  the  way  that  he  did  this, 
and  the  intelligence  and  discrimination  that  he 
showed  in  doing  it,  that  my  admiration  for 
Felix  grew  apace,  until  I  was  more  than  half  in- 
clined to  agree  with  Vevie  in  her  oft-expressed 
opinion  of  the  greyhound :  "  Calif  knows  just  as 
much  as  I  do,  only  he  won't  talk  about  it,"  she 
would  declare,  earnestly.  "  Sometimes  he  knows 
more,  for  he  knows  enough  to  keep  still  when 
that's  the  best  thing  to  do." 

But,  after  all,  it  was  not  very  high  praise  of 
the  shaggy,  faithful  collie  to  say  that  he  knew 
more  about  the  sheep  business  than  I  did. 

Down  into  the  lower  valley  we  filed  at  length, 
some  two  hours  after  the  start  from  the  upper 
one,  and  along  the  roadway  past  our  cottage, 
where  father,  Aunt  Matilda,  Vevie,  Calif,  and 
Johnny  witnessed  the  exodus  with  much  in- 
terest. We  kept  on  through  the  length  of  the 
valley,  over  the  bridge — successor  to  the  one 
that  had  been  washed  out  behind  us  on  the  day 


106  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

of  our  entrance  into  the  valley — up  the  moun- 
tain road  and  so  out  upon  the  plains,  where  the 
abundant  herbage  so  tempted  the  half-starved 
creatures  that  it  became  almost  impossible  to 
urge  them  along. 

"  We  must  get  'em  nigh  enough  to  the  corral, 
over  yon  on  the  San  Coulee,"  Kome  said,  point- 
ing to  a  large  enclosure  on  the  river  bank, 
"  so  that  we  can  drive  'em  in  there  and  get  the 
gate  closed  and  locked  by  sundown  ;  they  won't 
be  so  ravenous  after  a  day  or  two." 

As  we  slowly  approached  to  within  a  half 
mile  or  less  of  the  big  corral,  we  allowed  the 
sheep  to  scatter  out  and  graze  at  will,  then 
Rome  took  off  his  hat  and  wiped  his  streaming 
face  with  a  look  of  intense  relief. 

"Tin  thankful  that's  done!"  he  ejaculated. 
"  I  don't  know  when  I've  been  feelin'  more 
nervous  'bout  a  thing.  I  don't  mind  sayin'  to 
you  now  that  I  have  been  havin'  my  doubts 
about  our  gettin'  here  unmolested;  we  never 
should  had  it  not  been  that  the  two  prettiest 
girls  in  Coulee  were  drivin'  the  flock." 


ON   THE   PLAINS  197 

"  I'll  try  to  forgive  you  for  making  fun  of 
our  looks,  Rome,  if  you'll  tell  me  why  you  say 
that,"  I  replied. 

"  Why,  you  don't  for  a  minute  s'pose,  do  you, 
that  them  songful  night  birds  that  run  the  sheep 
off  before  don't  know  what's  goin'  on  to-day  ? 
They  know  just  as  well  as  we  do.  And  they 
ain't  right  well  pleased,  either.  You  see,"  he 
continued,  drawing  nearer  to  me,  for  he  seemed 
to  regard  me  as  the  active  working  partner  in 
the  sheep  business,  "  there's  a  short  cut  from 
the  upper  Coulee  through  the  Wind  River  range 
down  into  Wyoming,  and  whenever  a  herd, 
either  of  cattle,  horses,  or  sheep  is  stampeded  in 
the  Coulee  valleys — stampeded  purposely,  like 
this  one  was — why,  it's  easy  to  keep  the  scat- 
tered bands  kind  of  drifting  toward  the  pass 
where  they'll  all  come  together  again  where  they 
can  be  rushed  down  into  the  south  and  sold — 
if  any  one  wants  to  take  the  risk  of  buyin'  stolen 
herds,  and  lots  of  fellows  do — especially  sheep. 
Sheep  ain't  so  easy  identified  as  cattle — they 
can  be  turned  over  to  some  dealer  who  is  too 


198  THE   GIRL  RANCHERS 

obliging  to  ask  questions.  He  claps  another 
brand  on  over  the  one  he  finds  already  on  cat- 
tle or  horses,  and  gives  a  new  cut  to  the  crop 
ear  of  a  sheep,  and  he's  all  right.  He  can  swear 
to  his  own  brand  if  any  questions  are  ever 
asked,  which  they  most  gen'lly  are  not.  Now, 
seein'  that  we've  got  the  flock  out  here,  if  they 
want  to  run  it  off  again  into  Southern  Colorado 
or  New  Mexico  they've  got  to  drive  them  back 
again  through  the  same  valley  that  we've  took 
'em  out  of.  They  won't  feel  like  doing  that  for 
awhile  yet.  So  I  reckon  our  travels  are  over 
with  for  the  time  being,  but  there's  another  big 
job  on  hand  I  s'pose  you  know." 

"  You  mean  watching  the  flock  ?"  I  asked 
doubtfully. 

"  No ;  that's  settled.  You  two  can  watch  it ; 
though  I  ain't  saying  that  it's  going  to  be  fun 
for  you.  The  thing  that  you  can't  do  is  to 
shear  the  sheep;  and  it  ought  to  be  done  just  as 
quick  as  they  get  a  little  over  this  scare.  It 
ought  to  have  been  done  a  month  ago ;  yes,  a 
week  before  they  ever  came  into  your  hands ; 


ON   THE    PLAINS  199 

but  now,  every  day  that  you  lose  decreases  the 
value  of  the  clip  and  makes  it  just  so  much 
harder  for  the  critters  themselves.  But  we  won't 
worry  about  that  till  we  have  to.  The  thing  to  do 
now  is  to  get  hold  of  a  lot  of  Mexicans,  app'int 
a  day  for  the  shearin',  and  see  that  it's  done." 

"  If  the  shearers  are  no  easier  to  find  than  the 
herders,  I  don't  see  what  we  are  to  do,"  I  said 
sadly  enough. 

"  It's  goin'  to  be  an  uphill  job  ;  I  ain't  doubt- 
in'  that ;  but  you've  had  worry  enough  for  one 
day.  Let's  talk  of  something  besides  sheep  for 
awhile."  As  he  seemed  to  think  that  we  were 
quite  up  to  his  own  cheerful  philosophy  of  dis- 
missing a  troublesome  subject  when  no  good 
could  be  achieved  by  discussing  it,  we  tried  to 
comply,  but  I  know  that  through  my  mind 
there  trooped  nothing  but  long  processions  of 
impossible  Mexicans  armed  with  sheep  shears. 

"You'll  have  a  nice  healthy  gallop  home 
every  night,"  Rome  went  on  cheerfully.  "  I 
bet  you  your  cheeks'll  be  brown  enough  before 
the  summer's  over." 


200  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"  It's  a  good  ways  from  home,"  I  said  thought- 
fully. 

"  Not  so  very  far ;  the  road  is  so  good  that 
you  can  make  twice  the  time  over  it  that  you 
could  in  gettin'  to  the  upper  Coulee." 

"  It's  a  lovely  bicycle  road,"  observed  Flor- 
ence, wistfully. 

Rome  was  riding  the  buckskin  that  day — he 
had  no  horse  of  his  own.  He  flecked  the 
broncho's  shoulder  absently  with  the  tip  of  his 
heavy  quirt  as  he  said :  "I  seen  one  of  them 
beesickles  one  day ;  a  man  down  to  Carston  had 
one.  He  was  ridin'  it,  kind  o'  humped  up,  like 
a  grasshopper  gettin'  ready  to  jump,  and  the 
sweat  was  pourin'  off  of  him  prodigious.  Looked 
to  me  like  he  had  to  pay  for  all  the  riding  he 
got.  I  like  bronchos  better  myself." 

We  had  dismounted  and  were  loitering  along 
by  the  side  of  our  grazing  horses  as  we  talked. 
Rome  began  telling  us  of  that  "  prospect "  of 
his.  He  appeared  to  have  high  hopes  of  it. 
"  I've  been  looking  into  it  and  I  find  that  I  can 
get  water  around  to  the  mouth  of  the  mine  from 


ON   THE    PLAINS  201 

the  Coulee  by  a  little  work,  well,  by  a  good  deal 
of  work,  for  it's  goin'  to  take  some  blasting 
and  a  power  of  dynamite,  but  it  can  be  done, 
and  when  it  is  Rome  Beaumont  ain't  a  poor 
man  any  longer.  I've  been  carryin'  the  placer 
sand  as  I  dug  it  out,  to  the  river  before  this, 
and  it's  slow  work ;  there'll  be  a  change  when 
old  Coulee  sends  a  stream  sparklin'  past  the 
door  of  my  cabin." 

"  Are  you  so  anxious  to  get  rich,  Rome  ?" 
"  Not  a  bit ;  I  care  more  for  it  now  than  ever 
I  did  in  my  life  before,  though.  Folks  is  queer 
about  riches.  Now,  look  at  me ;  I've  got  good 
health,  good  eyes,  ears,  and  feet — look  at  'em  " — 
he  glanced  down  at  the  members  in  question 
with  a  humorous  twinkle — "  seem  a  good  deal 
like  a  pair  of  them  Kentucky  push-boats,  don't 
they?  but  all  the  gold  between  here  and  the 
Pacific  Ocean  couldn't  buy  me  another  pair  as 
good  if  anything  was  to  happen  to  these.  So  I 
can't  help  feelin'  that  I'm  pretty  rich  already, 
but  that  prospect  of  mine'll  jest  be  pavin'  the 
way  for  something  that  this  kind  of  riches 


202  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

couldn't  bring  me,  that's  all.  Cuidado  !  Felix ! 
Say,  what  you  thinking  of?" 

"  I'm  going  to  teach  Felix  English,"  I  in- 
formed him,  as  Felix,  thus  reminded  of  his  duty, 
promptly  brought  up  a  half-dozen  laggards. 

"Are  you?  Poor  little  feller!  I  bet  his 
head'll  ache  worse'n  ever  his  feet  have  after 
ranging  the  hills  all  day  in  search  of  a  stam- 
peded flock.  I  know  mine  would  if  I  had  to 
learn  it  right." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  our  charges  were  cor- 
ralled within  the  high-walled  enclosure  not  far 
from  the  river  bank,  and,  discovering  that  a 
snug  little  kennel  had  been  built  close  outside 
for  Felix,  we  left  him  on  guard  and  rode  home- 
ward in  the  gathering  dusk. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN   ODD    ACQUAINTANCE 

ROME  proved  a  true  prophet.  The  aggressive 
cattlemen,  baffled  in  their  first  attempt  to  scat- 
ter our  flock,  molested  us  no  more.  Day  after 
day  passed,  and  we  could  find  in  the  whole 
length  and  breadth  of  the  Coulee  country  no 
man,  white,  black,  or  brown,  willing  to  under- 
take, for  love  or  money,  the  task  of  herding  our 
sheep  ;  more  than  that,  and  infinitely  worse,  we 
could  find  no  shearers. 

Rome  was  our  stronghold  and  defense  in  that 
time  of  need.  He  conscientiously  gave  to  Flor- 
ence and  me  the  credit  of  "  holding  down  the 
ranch,"  as  he  expressed  it,  but  we  all  knew  that 
without  his  unselfish  aid  all  our  efforts  to  "  hold 
it  down  "  would  have  been  useless.  We  dared 
not  appeal  to  him  or  accept  of  his  freely-prof- 
fered services  oftener  than  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary, not  only  for  the  sake  of  his  own  safety, 

203 


204  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

but  because  he  would  accept  no  payment  for 
anything  that  he  did.  Aunt  Matilda  ventured 
to  broach  the  subject  to  him  once,  and  he  ap- 
peared so  deeply  hurt  that  she  never  had  the 
courage  to  mention  it  again. 

The  change  of  climate  proved  very  beneficial 
to  father,  but  every  indiscretion  or  exposure  was 
pretty  sure  to  bring  on  an  acute  reminder  that 
he  must  take  no  liberties  with  his  precarious 
health.  No  change  of  climate,  however,  could 
efface  the  memory  of  Donald  Arleigh's  treachery; 
Donald,  the  practical,  to  whom  the  dreamy, 
silent  inventor  looked  as  to  another,  and  possi- 
bly, a  more  masterful  self,  who  would  demon- 
strate the  value  of  those  pursuits  to  which  he 
had  dedicated  his  life,  and  for  which  his  life  had, 
as  far  as  he  could  judge  by  tangible  results,  been 
wasted.  Instead  of  this  sad  ending,  if  Donald  had 
been  true,  the  world  would  have  been  his  willing 
debtor.  In  losing  him,  he  was  doubly,  trebly 
wounded,  in  his  love,  his  ambition,  and  his  pride. 
Into  the  life  of  this  hurt,  but  patient  recluse, 
came  Rome,  with  his  cheery  good  fellowship,  his 


AN  ODD   ACQUAINTANCE  205 

loyal  friendliness,  his  unfailing  interest  in  those 
about  him,  and  his  presence  was  as  balm  to 
father's  sore  heart.  His  sad  eyes  brightened, 
the  hopeful  tone  gradually  returned  to  his  con- 
versation ;  his  faith  in  humanity  slowly  reas- 
serted itself,  and  in  the  same  ratio,  his  health 
improved.  Donald  was  not  forgotten,  but  the 
whole  world  was  no  longer  false  because  one 
beloved  had  fallen  short  of  his  expectations. 
He  was  never  prone  to  look  much  into  details, 
and  since  we  assured  him  that  it  was  best  for  us 
to  attend  to  the  sheep  herding,  he  believed  it, 
and  let  it  go  at  that.  At  first  we  were  in  some 
fear  lest  he  should  again  offer  his  services,  but 
his  first  attempt  had  been  such  a  dismal  failure 
that  he  had  not  the  courage  to  repeat  it.  He 
believed  the  stampede  and  all  the  subsequent 
trouble  to  have  been  the  direct  result  of  his  own 
heedlessness,  and,  of  course,  we  could  not  tell 
him  otherwise. 

The  long,  lonely  days  on  the  range  passed 
uneventfully.  Florence  and  I  settled  down  to 
the  conviction  that  there  was  no  one  to  help  us  in 


206  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

the  herding,  but  oh,  the  shearing !  the  shearing! 
To  lose  the  clip  was  to  lose  that  for  which  the 
sheep  were  kept.  And  we  could  find  no  shearers. 

Florence,  who,  in  the  pleasant,  idle  days  that 
we  spent  in  our  Eastern  home,  would  never  go 
very  far  out  of  her  way  to  help  another,  now 
realized  fully  the  importance  of  all  connected 
with  our  daily  task.  I  recall  especially  the 
close  of  one  rainy  day  when  we  came  galloping 
home  with  the  raindrops  beating  in  our  faces 
and  the  wild,  sweet  mountain  wind  tossing  our 
loosened  hair  like  silken  streamers.  Father 
stood  on  the  little  porch  watching  for  us,  and 
he  burst  out  vehemently  as  we  drew  rein  before 
him,  "  This  is  an  outrage,  nothing  less  than  an 
outrage,  that  two  young  girls  like  you  should 
be  compelled  to  do  work  that  obliges  you  to  ex- 
pose yourselves  like  this.  We  will  sell  the  sheep 
if  no  one  but  you  can  be  found  to  watch  them." 

Florence  is  much  more  ready  of  speech  than 
I;  she  has  her  arguments  all  ready  while  I  am 
slowly  marshalling  the  words  to  clothe  mine  in, 
and  I  always  have  a  depressing  sense  that  they 


AN   ODD   ACQUAINTANCE  207 

don't  half  fill  out  their  clothes  at  that.  Brush- 
ing the  hair  from  her  damp  cheeks,  she  sprang 
from  the  saddle  and  ran  into  the  house,  saying : 

"  Come  in,  papa ;  I  want  to  talk  that  over 
with  you." 

She  began  as  soon  as  we  entered  the  house, 
the  house  that  could  never  seem  otherwise  than 
cozy  and  warm  as  long  as  Aunt  Matilda  pre- 
sided over  it  and  father  and  Vevie  awaited  us. 
"  Father,"  began  Florence,  turning  her  bright 
face,  flushed  with  rain  and  sparkling  with 
health,  toward  him,  "  this  work  that  you  think 
it  such  an  outrage  for  us  to  do  is  good  for  me ; 
I  need  it.  Elsie  never  needed  such  discipline. 
She  was  always  good  enough  without  under- 
going any  experience  to  make  her  better  ;  but  I 
never  was  very  good,  and  you  all  know  it.  These 
long,  still  days  on  the  range — for,  of  course, 
Elsie  and  I  are  seldom  together  except  when  we 
round  up  at  night — are  giving  me  a  chance  to 
get  acquainted  with  myself.  Why,  papa,  I  am 
growing  !  I  have  never  had  a  chance  to  grow 
before  ;  all  the  things  that  I  had  in  life,  all  that 


208  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

I  loved  or  hoped  for,  was  for  something  that 
should  redound  to  the  benefit  or  glory  of  Flor- 
ence— Florence,  the  selfish,  ungrateful  little 
wretch  !  Well,  there,  papa,  I  won't  abuse  her  ; 
you  love  her,  and  it  makes  you  uncomfortable 
to  hear  the  truth  about  her  ;  but  I  know  it  now. 
I  begin  to  see  that  there  is  something  else  in 
the  world.  I  think  it's  good  for  me  to  get  away 
for  awhile  from  the  crowding,  the  hurry,  and 
the  self-centered  thoughts  of  civilization.  I'm 
getting  acquainted  with  myself,  with  my  soul 
out  here— a  pretty  small  one,  it's  true,  '  a  poor 
thing,  but  mine  own.' " 

Father  was  silent  a  long  time  after  she  ceased 
speaking.  He  glanced  out  of  the  window  and 
up  at  the  heights  that  the  misty  night  was  fast 
oblitering,  with  a  far-off,  seeking  expression  ; 
finally,  "  You  may  be  right,"  he  said.  "  I  re- 
member that  the  Bible  tells  us  that  when  God 
desired  to  fit  a  man  to  become  the  leader  of  His 
chosen  people,  He  sent  him,  not  into  the  crowded 
city  for  an  education,  but  into  the  wilderness." 

However,  I  who  seldom  soar  above  the  com- 


AN   ODD    ACQUAINTANCE  209 

monplace,  became  so  skilled  a  shepherdess  that, 
in  the  course  of  two  or  three  weeks,  I  often  took 
entire  charge  of  the  flock  for  days  at  a  time, 
thus  leaving  Florence  free  to  make  a  better  use 
of  her  time,  and  to  keep  up  the  music  that  father 
— and  Mrs.  Jones,  for  Florence  continued  to 
visit  her — delighted  in.  Musicians  were  natur- 
ally scarce  in  San  Coulee  and  the  fame  of  Flor- 
ence's singing  and  playing  gradually  spread 
abroad.  She  was  wont  to  accuse  herself  of  self- 
ishness in  leaving  me  to  take  the  burden  of  the 
range  work  so  entirely  on  my  own  shoulders, 
but,  as  it  turned  out,  she  was  doing  good  service, 
even  when  she  least  realized  it.  Why  is  it,  I 
wonder,  that  people  are  so  prone  to  believe  that 
the  path  of  duty  is  always  set  with  thorns? 
Because  she  loved  to  paint  and  sing,  and  could 
do  both  so  well,  her  conscience,  being  rather 
aggressively  active  since  this  life  of  solitary  self- 
communing  began,  troubled  her,  insinuating 
that,  since  she  loved  these  occupations  and  did 
not  really  love  the  role  of  shepherdess,  the  latter 
was  the  thing  that  she  should  devote  herself  to. 
14 


210  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

It  took  a  great  many  arguments  to  convince  her 
that  there  would  be  no  harm  in  giving  a  portion 
of  her  time  to  each. 

Father  and  Vevie,  accompanied  always  by 
Calif,  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  wandering 
over  the  hills.  They  were  industriously  making 
a  collection  of  the  wild  flowers  of  the  region, 
and  also  of  various  kinds  of  clay,  good,  bad, 
and  indifferent,  with  which  father  experimented 
impartially,  leaving  a  trail  of  clay  on  every- 
thing that  he  touched,  and,  seemingly,  touching 
everything  in  the  house,  for  the  evidence  of 
his  work  spoke  on  every  hand.  Coming  home 
from  their  rambles  they  occasionally  met  an 
Indian,  or  Indians,  strays  from  the  Red  Cliff 
Agency  on  the  other  side  of  Mount  Kenneth, 
the  white  crest  of  which  signaled  the  traveler 
for  a  hundred  miles  away.  I  doubt  if  any  one 
of  us  would  ever  have  thought  of  visiting  the 
Agency,  however,  had  it  not  been  for  the  chance 
acquaintance  that  father  and  Vevie  made  during 
one  of  their  walks  with  old  Running  Wolf.  He 
was  a  grim  yet  amiable  savage  whom  they  over- 


AN   ODD   ACQUAINTANCE  211 

took  as  they  were  hurrying  home,  rather  late, 
one  evening,  laden  as  usual  with  the  spoils  of 
the  forest  in  the  form  of  roots,  blossoms,  and 
knobby  chunks  of  clay  and  colored  ochre.  It 
was  rather  startling,  as  a  first  experience,  and 
in  the  twilight  to  come  upon  a  bronzed  old 
warrior  in  the  mountain  wilds,  but,  after  an  in- 
voluntary pause,  during  which  Vevie  clung 
tightly  to  his  hand,  and  Califs  shining  eyes 
began  to  gleam  ominously,  father  quickened  his 
steps  and  overtook  the  Indian  saying,  in  white 
man's  fashion,  "  Good  evening,  sir." 

"  Ugh,  ugh  !  white  man,"  grunted  the  Indian, 
and  although  he  stepped  aside  to  give  them 
room  to  pass  on  the  narrow  trail,  it  was  not  re- 
assuring to  observe  that  he  gave,  what  seemed 
to  father,  unmistakable  signs  of  having  indulged 
too  freely  in  liquor ;  yet  he  was  a  pitiful  figure, 
too,  old,  far  from  home,  alone  in  the  shades  of 
coming  night.  If  father  had  not  been  in  the 
habit  of  looking  below  the  surface  of  things,  he 
would  not  have  seen  and  thought  of  all  this  ; 
and  our  attempts  to  conduct  a  successful  sheep 


212  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

ranch  in  San  Coulee  would  have  ended  in  dis- 
aster. Instead  of  passing  on,  he  stopped  and 
looked  at  the  Indian,  who,  waiting  patiently  for 
him  to  proceed,  minded  his  scrutiny  as  much, 
and  no  more,  than  he  would  that  of  a  rabbit. 

"  You  are  tired  and  a  long  way  from  home,  I 
see,"  father  remarked  at  last,  "  and  I  doubt  if 
you  can  go  much  further,"  which  was  intended 
as  a  gentle  reminder  that  he  had  been  drinking 
overmuch,  but  the  Indian  took  it  differently. 

"  Lame,"  he  said,  laconically,  pointing  to  his 
left  foot  which  was  clumsily  bandaged.  "Slip 
on  trail  away  yond',  rock  roll  on  foot,  smash," 
he  explained  with  no  waste  of  words  but  with 
sufficient  clearness. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

The  Indian  glanced  up  to  where  the  rose-col- 
ored pennons  and  clouds  of  snow  danced  along 
the  crest  of  Kenneth.  These,  driven  from  the 
snow-fields  by  the  fierce  wind  that  sprang  up 
with  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  were  already 
streaming  along  in  weird  procession.  Then  he 
said,  stoically,  "  Reservation." 


AN   ODD   ACQUAINTANCE  213 

"  The  Reservation  !"  father  echoed.  "  With 
your  lame  foot?  Why,  man  it's  twenty-five 
miles  to  the  Reservation !  Thirty-five  miles  by 
Agency  road ;  twelve  miles  less  over  the  moun- 
tain. Do  you  mean  that  you  intend  to  cross 
the  mountain  to-night?" 

"  Got  to.  No  camp,  no  fire ;  no  eat ;  got  to," 
the  Indian  replied,  with  dogged  patience. 

"  You  come  home  with  me,  and  I'll  see  about 
all  that,  and  look  after  that  wounded  foot  into 
the  bargain,"  replied  father,  walking  forward 
with  Vevie's  hand  in  his,  and  Calif,  contrary  to 
his  wont  at  times,  made  no  objections  to  the  pro- 
ceedings, but  followed  sedately  behind  the  In- 
dian, who  hobbled  painfully  along  in  father's 
wake. 

Florence  was  at  home  that  day.  When 
they  reached  the  house  and  father  stopped  on 
the  threshold  she  was  playing  and  singing.  The 
Indian,  just  at  father's  back,  laid  his  hand  sud- 
denly on  his  shoulder,  compelling  him  to  pause, 
while  he  thrust  his  copper-colored  face  close  to 
father's,  gazing  at  the  singer  steadfastly,  bre'ath- 


214  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

lessly,  as  though  spellbound,  as,  indeed,  he  was. 
Fortunately  Florence  did  not  see  the  strange, 
wild  face,  with  its  glinting  black  eyes,  regard- 
ing her  with  such  fascinated  interest.  If  she 
had,  I  dare  say  she  would  have  screamed,  and 
thereby  wrecked  our  fortunes,  for  Running 
Wolf,  as  we  presently  found  his  name  to  be,  was 
as  sensitive  as  any  other  shy,  half-tamed  creature 
of  the  mountains.  When  the  last  ringing  notes 
of  the  song  died  away  father  stepped  forward. 
He  understood  and  liked  poor  old  Running 
Wolf  from  that  moment. 

"  Flossie,"  he  said,  "  I've  brought  you  and  Ma- 
tilda a  patient."  He  threw  the  door  wide  open, 
so  that  the  red  light  of  sunset  lit  up  Running 
Wolf  in  all  his  barbaric  ugliness.  "  His  foot  is 
hurt,  and  he  needs  attention,"  he  continued. 

When  I  came  home  an  hour  later  his  foot  had 
been  carefully  dressed,  he  had  been  fed,  and  was 
lying  on  a  pile  of  blankets  before  the  fireplace, 
sleepily  blinking  at  the  genial  warmth  of  the 
fire  that  was  seldom  allowed  to  die  out  on  our 
hearth. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  WILD    RIDE 

WHEN  we  became  somewhat  accustomed  to 
the  range  work  it  did  not  so  completely  ab- 
sorb all  of  our  thoughts,  although  it  certainly 
did  occupy  all  of  the  time  of  one  or  the  other 
of  us.  As  our  own  anxieties  became  a  trifle 
less  overwhelming  we  were  able  to  take  some 
interest  in  our  neighbors,  neighbors  still,  even 
if  they  were  disposed  to  have  none  of  us. 
Aunt  Matilda  not  only  discovered  that  the 
wife  of  our  morose  friend,  Roy  Jones,  was 
sick,  but  she  promptly  made  Mrs.  Jones  her 
particular  charge,  so  that  it  was  not  unusual — 
especially  before  aunt  became  the  fairly  good 
horsewoman  that  she  did  in  time — for  Florence 
or  me  to  find  on  returning  from  our  day's  work 
on  the  range,  that  she  had  an  errand  for  one  or 
the  other  of  us  in  behalf  of  Mrs.  Jones.  These 
errands  took  the  form  of  a  late  ride  over  to  the 

215 


216  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Jones's  residence  oftener  than  was  pleasant  for 
a  tired  sheep  herder,  but  I  hope  that  it  was 
partly  good  feeling,  as  well  as  a  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  it  was  well  for  us  to  place  any 
cattleman  under  a  debt  of  obligation  to  us 
whenever  the  opportunity  offered,  that  made  us 
refrain  from  making  any  objections  to  these 
supplementary  rides. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  usually  I  who  took 
them  if  they  came  late,  because  I  was  supposed 
to  be  much  more  courageous  than  Florence,  and 
it  was  on  account  of  my  being  credited  with  so 
much  courage  that  Aunt  Matilda  said  to  me 
one  evening  about  nine  o'clock,  "  Elsie,  I  de- 
clare, I'm  most  ashamed  to  ask  it  of  you,  but  I 
just  wish  you  would  go  and  take  this  basket  of 
grapes  over  to  Mrs.  Jones.  You  wouldn't  be 
afraid  to  go,  would  you." 

"  No." 

"You  see,"  aunt  continued  in  explanation, 
"  Mrs.  Jones  wasn't  quite  so  well  when  I  was 
over  there  day  before  yesterday  ;  she  was  long- 
ing for  some  fruit,  so  I  went  over  to  the  store 


A  WILD   RIDE  217 

and  asked  Mr.  Davis  to  have  some  grapes  sent 
up  from  Carstou  first  chance  he  got.  They 
came  late  this  afternoon,  and  I've  been  waiting 
all  the  evening  hoping  that  E-ome  would  call 
and  take  them  around  for  us,  but  I  guess  he 
isn't  coming  to-night.  Of  course  Mrs.  Jones 
can  wait  if  you  don't  feel  like  going." 

"I'll  go,  Aunt  Matilda.  Johnny,"  I  con- 
tinued turning  to  the  motionless  figure  that 
always  established  itself  safely  in  the  chimney 
corner  with  the  coming  of  night  and  darkness, 
"  please  go  and  saddle  Chris  for  me." 

Johnny  arose  obediently,  but  paused  on  the 
threshold.  "  Better  take  Luck,"  he  said. 

"  No  ;  Luck  is  tired.     I'll  take  Chris." 

"  I'm  afraid  Luck's  little  rider  is  tired,  too," 
father  interposed,  with  an  affectionate  glance  at 
me.  "Isn't  it  asking  a  good  deal  of  Elsie, 
Mattie,  to  ask  her  to  add  a  six-mile  ride  late  in 
the  evening  to  what  she  has  already  done  ?" 

"  I  don't  mind  it  at  all,"  I  hastened  to  say, 
seeing  a  look  of  concern  on  aunt's  face.  "  It  does 
not  follow  that  I  ana  tired  because  my  horse 


218  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

is ;  I  have  only  had  to  sit  011  his  back  and  "be 
carried  around."  But  I  did  not  tell  them  that 
I  had  no  notion  of  taking  a  six  mile  ride  when 
the  errand  could  be  done  by  going  three.  I 
knew  that  there  would  be  an  outcry  if  they  sus- 
pected my  intention  of  making  use  of  the  trail 
through  the  canon. 

Although  late  in  the  evening — late  for  us 
sober  valley  folk — it  was  not  very  dark,  a 
crescent  moon  hung  low  in  the  west,  and  it  was 
by  its  doubtful  light  that  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Florence's  anxious  face,  as  she  came  noiselessly 
to  my  side  after  Johnny  had  brought  Chris  up 
to  the  horse  block  in  front  of  the  cottage,  and  I 
was  seated  in  the  saddle  with  the  basket  of 
grapes  across' my  lap. 

"  Elsie,"  she  whispered,  "  I  wish  aunt  hadn't 
asked  you  to  go  ;  it's  so  dark — " 

"Not  at  all  dark,  Florence,  when  one  gets 
used  to  being  out." 

"  Well ;  suppose  you  were  to  meet  some  one, 
or  something,  on  the  road?  I  just  wish  you 
would  take  this."  "  This  "  was  a  big  revolver 


A   WILD    RIDE  219 

that  had  been  left  in  the  cottage  from  the  time 
of  the  Seaton  occupancy. 

"  Do  you  mean,  Flossie,  that  if  I  meet  any 
one  you  would  like  to  have  me  shoot  them  ?" 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  she  retorted,  with 
a  vexed  laugh.  "  Do  take  it." 

"  No  ;  you  know  very  well  that  I  couldn't  hit 
the  side  of  a  house  if  one  should  attack  me.  I'll 
have  to  trust  to  luck  or  rather  to  Chris." 

"  Don't  stay  a  minute  later  than  you  must," 
she  persisted,  as  I  touched  the  shoulder  of  the 
yellow  broncho,  who  responded  by  breaking 
into  a  trot  that  racked  every  bone  in  my  body. 
It  was  in  vain  that  I  tried  to  induce  him  to  lope. 
His  repertoire  consisted,  apparently,  of  a  walk 
and  a  trot  alone. 

Trees  and  shrubs  were  nothing  more  than 
mere  vague  outlines,  black  shadows,  peopled 
with  all  sorts  of  dreadful  possibilities  in  the 
way  of  wild  animals,  when  we  began  to  descend 
the  rocky  and  difficult  slope  along  which  the 
trail  that  formed  a  short  cut  between  the  Jones 
ranch  and  the  rest  of  the  valley  wound  in 


220  THE    GIKL   RANCHERS 

tortuous  course.  Chris's  slow  walk  became  even 
slower  as  lie  picked  his  unwilling  way  down  into 
the  depths  whose  dense  shadows  the  scant  moon- 
light did  not  penetrate.  It  was  very  quiet. 
Only  Chris's  footfall,  or  the  rattling  of  a  pebble 
displaced  by  his  step  and  sliding  away  down  the 
slope,  and  the  weird,  uncanny  voice  of  the  water 
as  it  seemed,  in  the  darkness,  to  pause  and  listen, 
and  then  to  hurry  on  the  faster  for  its  brief  stay, 
broke  the  intense  silence.  I  was  not  afraid,  yet 
it  was  a  relief  when  we  emerged  safely  from  the 
canon  to  find  that  the  lights  of  the  Jones  resi- 
dence were  shining  before  us.  There  was  neither 
fence  nor  gate  in  front  of  the  dreary  little  cabin 
of  the  cattleman,  and  so  I  rode  close  to  the  door, 
tapping  upon  it  with  the  toe  of  my  boot,  for 
want  of  a  free  hand.  It  was  promptly  opened, 
and  Mr.  Jones  himself  relieved  me  of  my  load. 
I  declined  his  invitation  to  alight  on  the  score 
of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  he  admitted : 

"  It  is  ruther  late.  Some  gals  would  be  afraid 
t'  ride  'round  alone  along  the  road  so  late  in  the 
evening." 


A  WILD    RIDE  221 

"  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  ride  along  the  road ; 
but  it  is  so  much  further  that  way  that  I  came 
through  the  canon." 

"Through  the  canon !  Did  ye?  Wai'  I 
swan !  Ye've  got  a  consid'able  pluck.  Goin' 
back  that-a-way  ?" 

"  Yes ;  if  my  horse  could  find  the  way  here  I 
guess  he'll  find  the  way  back  all  right." 

"  It  ain't  a  matter  of  a  hoss'  findin'  his  way, 
altogether,"  Mr.  Jones  insisted,  and  then  he 
added  politely  :  "  Tell  Miss  Stanley  that  my 
wife  is  much  obleeged  for  the  grapes.  She's 
gittin'  real  sot  on  Miss  Stanley,  my  wife  is." 
Leaving  my  messages  and  inquiring  for  the  in- 
valid I  again  turned  my  horse's  head  toward 
the  canon,  but  Mr.  Jones's  remark,  "  It  ain't  a 
matter  of  a  hoss'  findin'  his  way,  altogether," 
seemed,  as  we  again  dropped  down  into  the 
shadows,  to  have  a  sinister  significance.  I 
knew  that  hunters  told  some  wild  stories  of  this 
particular  canon — a  mere  savage  rent  in  the 
high  mountains  flanking  the  northern  side  of 
the  valley — which,  broadening  and  deepening 


222  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

as  it  neared  the  plains,  became  a  formidable 
obstacle  to  travel.  According  to  these  disquiet- 
ing legends  its  pecularity  was  that  it  afforded 
beasts  of  prey  a  safe  runway  from  their  moun- 
tain fastnesses  to  the  plains,  where  they  might 
gratify  their  taste  for  beef  or  mutton,  whichever 
came  handiest,  and  return  to  the  mountains 
secure  from  molestation. 

I  had  the  carelessness  of  ignorance  so  far  as 
any  fear  of  wild  animals  went,  still,  it  was  any- 
thing but  pleasant  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  to 
find  myself  involuntarily  recalling  some  of  those 
stories.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  resolutely  told 
myself  I  would  not  think  of  such  things.  I 
could  think  of  nothing  else  and  was  in  the 
midst  of  a  most  thrilling  recollection  when 
Chris  suddenly  stopped.  Chris  was  staring,  as 
though  fascinated,  at  the  low  branches  of  a 
spreading  oak  that  overhung  the  trail  a  few 
yards  in  front,  and  was  trembling  as  with  an 
ague.  If  it  had  been  Luck,  cowering  and  cring- 
ing under  me,  I  should  have  been  terribly 
frightened,  but  I  had  so  poor  an  opinion  of 


A  WILD   RIDE  223 

Chris's  intelligence  that,  after  the  first  start  of 
alarm,  I  was  not  greatly  concerned.  Chris  was 
never  reliable,  and  Rome,  who  had  ridden  him 
more  than  any  of  us,  declared  that  the  horse 
saw  ghosts.  He  could  account  for  the  little 
broncho's  unreasonable  fits  of  terror  on  no  other 
ground,  so  now  I  struck  him  sharply  with  the 
riding  whip,  urging  him  forward.  Instead  of 
obeying,  he  literally  sat  down  upon  his 
haunches,  like  a  dog.  I  was  sure  that  he  would 
have  howled  if  he  could,  and  sure,  also,  that  he 
was  looking  at  something  as  yet  invisible  to  me. 
I  bent  forward,  studying  the  oak  tree  with  in- 
quiring eyes  and  presently  I  made  out  a  curious 
phenomenon.  Something  was  hanging  sus- 
pended from  one  of  the  lower  limbs  of  the  oak  ; 
something  with  a  thick-set,  tapering  body,  that 
was  writhing  and  twisting  slowly  with  a  half 
circular  motion.  I  naturally  thought  of  snakes, 
and  then  remembered  that  there  were  no  snakes 
in  the  valley  ;  at  least  that  was  what  the  people 
told  us. 

Straining  my  eyes,  I  looked  up  into  the  dense 


224  THE   GIKL   EANCHEES 

foliage  of  the  tree,  following  the  swaying  thing 
that  was  not  a  snake.  I  made  out  a  long,  lithe, 
indistinct  shape  crouching  motionless,  save  for 
the  tail,  along  the  length  of  the  oak  limb,  and  a 
pair  of  yellow  eyes  glared  down  into  mine  like 
two  points  of  flames.  I  had  never  before  seen 
a  mountain  lion  but  I  knew,  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt,  that  I  saw  one  now.  The  knowl- 
edge seemed,  for  the  time  being,  to  deprive  me 
of  my  senses ;  if  I  had  studied  to  do  the  worst 
thing  possible  I  do  not  see  how  I  could  have 
succeeded  better.  Raising  my  whip  I  struck 
frantically  in  the  direction  of  those  gleaming 
eyes.  The  crazed,  aimless  blows  fell  sharply 
across  the  face  of  the  broncho,  who,  roused  into 
action  whirled  more  swiftly  than  he  had  ever 
before  moved  in  his  life,  gave  one  long  leap  on 
the  backward  trail,  and  flung  me  headlong  to 
the  ground.  If  I  had  been  less  unnerved  by 
terror  I  should  not  have  been  unseated ;  as  it 
was,  I  lay  on  the  ground,  under  the  oak,  stunned, 
but  yet,  not  wholly  unconscious,  for  I  heard  and 
recognized  the  clatter  of  Chris's  flying  hoofs  as 


A   WILD    RIDE  225 

he  scattered  a  shower  of  loose  shingle  in  his  mad 
flight  from  the  canon,  but  the  recognition  was 
too  faint  to  concern  me  much.  I  suppose  that 
I  really  was  benumbed  with  terror  rather  than 
actually  stunned,  for  I  knew  when  something 
fell  with  a  soft,  heavy  thud  beside  me,  knew 
when  it  stood  over  me  and  glared  into  my  face 
with  those  two  points  of  yellow  flame  so  close  to 
my  own  half-closed  eyes  that  their  vivid  rays 
seemed  to  scorch  and  burn,  while  the  hot,  heavy 
breath  sent  a  fetid  blast  into  my  face,  but  I  did 
not  move,  and  the  merciful  trance  of  terror 
probably  saved  my  life. 

Hunters  say  that  lions  will  not,  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  the  thing,  rend  any  creature  that 
they  believe  to  be  dead.  A  cat,  discovering  a 
dead  mouse,  will  dine  off  it  daintily,  but  unless 
she  is  a  kitten,  and,  therefore,  frivolous,  she  dis- 
dains to  play  with  it.  Probably  my  lion  was 
not,  just  then,  pressed  by  hunger.  I  even  think 
that  but  for  the  accident  of  Chris's  throwing  me 
I  might  have  passed  safely  under  the  oak  limb. 
The  creature  walked  around  and  around  me  as 
15 


226  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

I  lay  prone  on  the  ground.  The  night  wind 
was  beginning  to  sweep  fitfully  down  its  accus- 
tomed path  from  the  mountains  to  the  plains ; 
a  stray  gust  caught  and  fluttered  the  skirt  of  my 
dress,  and  the  lion,  halting  instantly  in  its  slink- 
ing promenade,  laid  a  heavy  paw  upon  the  fab- 
ric, while  its  fierce  eyes  again  sought  my  face. 
As  I  made  no  movement  it  withdrew  a  few 
steps,  occasionally  giving  vent  to  a  low  growl. 
Finally  it  stretched  itself  upon  the  ground  in 
a  position  favorable  for  watching,  and  lay  there 
as  still  as  the  immovable  rocks  around  us. 
Minutes  passed — how  many  I  could  not  know, 
but  so  many  that  I  had  time  to  wonder,  in  a  half 
paralyzed,  impersonal  way,  how  long  it  would 
take  a  person  to  die  of  fright,  for  it  did  not 
occur  to  me  to  make  any  effort  to  save  myself; 
I  only  hoped,  dimly,  that  I  might  die  before  the 
lion  attacked  me.  Suddenly  there  was  again  a 
sound  of  hurrying  hoofs,  and  a  big  voice — 
the  voice  of  Roy  Jones — now  neither  sullen 
or  reserved — shouted  my  name,  "  Elsie ! 
Hel— lo— oo !  he— 1—1— oo !  Elsie!"  The  lion, 


A   WILD    RIDE  227 

springing  up,  stood  its  ground  uncertainly  for 
an  instant,  but  the  cat-like  habit  of  caution  pre- 
vailed, and  it  slunk  noiselessly  back  into  the 
shadow  of  the  oak.  In  a  second  more  Chris, 
unwilling,  terrified,  and  going  at  a  rate  that  no 
one  familiar  with  his  previous  record  would  be- 
lieve possible,  burst  into  view,  bearing  Roy 
Jones  on  his  back.  Chris  sprang  aside,  snort- 
ing and  trembling  again  at  sight  of  me  lying 
beside  the  trail,  and  Mr.  Jones  leaped  from  the 
saddle  and  hastened  to  my  side.  He  knelt 
down,  lifting  me  up  with  an  arm  like  that 
of  a  prize-fighter.  "I  swan!  I  hope  you 
ain't  killed,  Miss  Stanley !"  he  ejaculated,  fer- 
vently. "  What's  happened  ?  Horse  throwed 
ye?" 

I  sat  up,  pushing  the  hair  back  from  my 
face.  "  Where  did  the  lion  go  ?"  I  asked,  stu- 
pidly. 

"  The  lion  ?     Hey,  that's  it,  is  it  ?" 
"  Yes,"  I  said  ;  "  and  it  went  under  that  tree." 
Mr.  Jones,  still  supporting  me  with  one  arm, 
pulled  a  heavy  revolver — the  cowboys  all  call 


228  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

them  "  guns  " — from  its  sheath  attached  to  his 
belt,  and  peered  inquiringly  into  the  oak 
shadows.  "If  the  lion  went  in  there  he's 
prob'ly  there  yet,"  he  said,  cocking  the  weapon  ; 
"  but  if  he'll  let  me  alone  I  won't  trouble  him ; 
I  ain't  lost  no  lion,  not  to-night.  Here,  let  me 
help  you  on  the  hoss,  and  we'll  perceed  out  o' 
here  kind  o'  cautious  like.  The  lion  won't 
tackle  us  as  long  as  he  thinks  we're  on  the  watch 
for  him." 

All  this  time  Mr.  Jones  had  clung  to  Chris's 
bridle,  and  Chris  had  been  pulling  mightily,  in 
a  transport  of  fear,  to  get  away  from  him.  In- 
stead of  slackening  on  the  bridle,  and  thereby 
giving  the  broncho  a  chance  as  he  lifted  me  to 
the  saddle,  Mr.  Jones  put  one  foot  on  the  bridle 
reins,  holding  the  horse's  nose  down  close  to 
the  ground  while  he  swung  me  up.  It  was  a 
little  thing  to  notice  at  such  a  time,  but  it  was 
so  effective  that  I  could  not  help  but  observe  it. 
Once  in  the  saddle  my  courage  returned  to  me. 
I  did  not  think  it  at  all  likely  that  Chris  would 
be  able  to  dismount  me  again,  whatever  he  might 


A  WILD   RIDE  229 

do.  But  it  was  evident  that  Mr.  Jones  intended 
to  take  no  risks. 

"  Sure  you're  all  right  ?"  he  asked,  as  I  settled 
myself  securely. 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"  Very  well,  then ;  now,  you  make  it  your 
business  to  stay  right  there,  and  I'll  do  the 
rest."  He  stepped  forward  cautiously  as  he 
spoke,  gun  in  hand,  but  we  passed  the  tree  in 
safety,  and,  before  we  were  out  of  the  cafion  I 
was  giving  him  the  details  of  my  encounter  with 
the  lion.  "  You  had  a  close  squeak  for  it,  no 
mistake,"  was  his  candid  summing  up.  "  You 
see,  that  there  canon  ain't  never  over'n  above 
safe,  not  after  night  it  ain't ;  but  I  didn't  want 
to  tell  you  that  after  you'd  jest  been  through  it, 
so  I  thought  I  hang  'round  out-doors,  after  you 
started  for  home,  until  I  was  sure  you  had  had 
time  to  git  through  the  cafion  all  right,  and 
whilst  I  was  loitering  'round,  what  should  come 
a-tearing  up  to  the  door  but  your  hoss !  I 
knowed  that  that  meant  something  wrong,  of 
course.  I  hope  you  won't  lay  it  up  agin  me 


230  THE    GIRL   RANCHERS 

that  I  was  a-hollering  your  name  that-a-way 
back  yon.  I  had  to  yell  the  name  that  I 
thought  would  git  to  you  quickest." 

I  hastened  to  reassure  him  on  that  point,  and, 
his  tongue,  perhaps,  loosened  by  the  strangeness 
of  the  adventure,  he  went  on  to  tell  me  of  vari- 
ous encounters  that  he  had  had  with  the  wild 
creatures  of  the  mountains,  creatures  that  he 
classified  under  the  one  generic  title  of  "  brute 
beasts."  He  kept  his  place  by  my  bridle  rein 
until  we  had  nearly  reached  the  door  of  our 
cottage.  Then  he  stopped  abruptly  in  the 
midst  of  a  bear  story  to  say  : 

"  Wai,  I  reckon  you'll  git  home  the  rest  o' 
the  way  all  right,  but  don't  ye  make  a  short  cut 
of  the  Devil's  Furrow  any  more  after  dark. 
Good-night."  An  instant  more  and  he  was  out 
f*f  sight. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A    FRIEND    IN   NEED 

RUNNING  WOLF'S  hurt  proved  to  be  rather 
a  serious  matter.  He  stayed  with  us  nearly  a 
week,  during  which  time  father,  who  had  taken 
a  silent  man's  fancy  to  another  equally  silent, 
dressed  his  wound  and  asked  no  questions,  but, 
at  the  close  of  the  fourth  day,  the  patient  him- 
self developed  an  unexpected  vein  of  curiosity. 
When  alone  with  Aunt  Matilda  he  began  ask- 
ing questions.  He  inquired  in  quite  fair  English, 
for  all  that  he  was  so  taciturn,  where  the  "  Light 
of  Day  " — meaning  Florence,  as  aunt  made  out 
with  some  difficulty,  and  the  little  dark  squaw, 
meaning  me,  as  she  made  out  with  no  difficulty 
at  all — went  every  morning.  Aunt  Matilda  ex- 
plained at  length  about  the  sheep,  and  Running 
Wolf  nodded  silent  comprehension.  He  made 
no  comments,  not  even  when  aunt,  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  pour  the  tale  of  her  troubles  into 

231 


232  THE   GIRL  RANCHERS 

an  ear  that  she  believed  to  be  friendly,  told  of 
our  increasing  anxiety  about  the  sheep-shearing, 
which,  in  common  humanity,  must  be  attended 
to  next  week  if  at  all. 

"  Bet'  not  'tall ;  bet'  sell  'em,"  said  Eunning 
Wolf,  and  said  no  more,  but,  later  in  the  day, 
he  asked,!  "Light  of  Day  goin'  wash  'em 
sheep?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Aunt  Matilda,  help- 
lessly, and  instantly  added,  "Why,  no.  How 
could  she?  Poor  child!" 

"  Light  of  Day  can  sing,"  the  Indian  resumed 
calmly,  "  her  sing ;  that  all  right." 

"Singing  won't  shear  the  sheep,"  Aunt  Matilda 
informed  him  irritably.  Running  Wolf  looked 
as  though  he  had  a  different  opinion,  but  he  said 
nothing.  He  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  the 
Reservation,  explaining  that  this  continued 
absence  might  tell  against  him.  Indians  absent 
from  the  Reservation  without  leave  were  pun- 
ished by  being  deprived — at  the  Agent's  dis- 
cretion—of a  portion — small  or  large  as  the  case 
might  be — of  the  monthly  allotment  of  beef  and 


A   FRIEND   IN   NEED  233 

clothing,  and  often  suffered  imprisonment  in  the 
guard-house  for  such  offenses. 

"  I  goin'  kill  what  man  tries  to  put  me  in  the 
guard-house,"  Running  Wolf  told  us  with  quiet 
decision,  as  he  recited  this  schedule  of  Agency 
rules  to  us :  "I  never  been  in  no  more  prison 
than  Reservation ;  that  'nuff.  Not  goin'  stay  in 
no  white  man's  wick-i-up  less'n  I  want  to." 

"  I  should  suppose  that  there  would  not  be  the 
least  danger  of  your  being  treated  with  such 
severity,"  father  said.  "  Your  accident  is  excuse 
enough  for  your  absence." 

"  Been  a  good  many  away  from  Reservation 
without  leave.  Agent  say  he  goin'  to  make 
'samples  of  'em  when  they  come  in.  Agent  say 
to  me,  I  go  to  Louisiana  Medina's  wick-i-up ; 
talk  at  him,  buy  some  blankets.  Say  I  go  two 
.  days ;  not  say  I  smash  foot  and  go  five  day 
already." 

"  Well,  but  a  glance  at  your  foot  is  enough. 
He  can  see  how  impossible  it  would  have 
been  for  you  to  proceed  after  getting  such  a 
hurt." 


234  THE   GIRL   BANCHERS 

Running  Wolf  shook  his  head.  "Indian 
bad,"  he  said  candidly.  "  Agent  think  maybe 
I  make  smash  ;  stay  away  longer."  The  old 
man's  distress  so  plainly  increased  as  the  hours 
went  by  that  father  bethought  himself  of  a  means 
by  which  he  might  not  only  get  him  home  but 
also  explain  the  reason  of  his  stay  in  order  to 
avert  any  threatened  punishment. 

"  I'll  lend  you  a  horse,  Running  Wolf,  and 
ride  over  with  you  to-morrow ;  then  I'll  tell  the 
agent  just  how  it  is,"  he  said.  Running  Wolf 
heard  of  this  plan  in  stolid  silence,  but  early  the 
next  morning,  glancing  out  of  the  window  as  I 
was  dressing,  whom  should  I  see  limping  away 
down  the  road  but  Running  Wolf!  He  had 
slipped  quietly  out  of  the  house  and  started  on 
the  long  and  painful  tramp  alone,  rather  than 
have  any  discussion  as  to  the  propriety  of  the 
move  with  the  white  man  who  was  so  bent  on 
befriending  him.  I  must  confess  to  having 
taken  a  fancy  to  him  myself,  and  the  sight  of 
him  limping  resolutely  away  from  us  sent  a  pang 
to  my  heart. 


A   FRIEND   IN   NEED  235 

Twice  during  the  season,  and  before  I  had 
taken  up  the  arduous  life  of  a  shepherdess,  I 
had  joined  a  party  of  young  people — valley 
residents  bound  on  a  picnic — in  making  the 
ascent  of  Mount  Kenneth.  To  picnic  on  that 
grand  peak  seemed  to  me  little  short  of  sacrilege, 
but  my  scruples  did  not  deter  me  from  going. 
After  all,  the  gay  riding  party  went  no  farther 
than  the  timber  line,  and  I  felt  that  I  had 
learned  the  trail  without  belittling  the  mountain 
that  I  so  respected.  I  had  never  descended  the 
trail  on  the  farther  side,  but  Running  Wolf 
would  know  the  way.  If  Florence  would  take 
charge  of  the  flock  for  the  day  what  was  to 
hinder  my  taking  the  Indian  over  to  the  Agency? 
I  felt  all  the  more  eager  to  help  him  since  his 
quiet  departure  told  more  plainly  than  words 
could  have  done,  what  he  thought  of  father's 
attempting  such  a  feat.  I  did  not  want  him  to 
suffer  for  his  consideration  to  a  sick  man. 

I  finished  dressing  in  haste  and  ran  out  after 
him.  "Wait,  Running  Wolf,  wait,  I'll  take 
you  over  the  mountain." 


236  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

"Little  squaw  take?  All  right.  Lots  of 
squaw.  Not  many  good  white  mans,"  and  with 
these  uncomplimentary  words  the  old  man  sat 
down  in  the  dust  by  the  roadside,  "  Bring  on 
horse,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  but  you  must  come  back  to  the  house 
and  get  some  breakfast,  so  must  I,  then  we'll 
start  right  off." 

"  Little  squaw  go  back  V  eat ;  me  stay  here ; 
me  got  breakfas'."  He  produced  a  leathery  look- 
ing string  of  venison  from  the  pouch  under  his 
blanket,  and  began  chewing  at  one  end  of  it 
with  stolid  determination.  I  knew  by  this  time 
that  it  was  quite  useless  to  argue  with  him,  but 
I  could  not  forbear  saying : 

"  I  think  you  had  better  come  back,  Running 
Wolf." 

"  Me  go  on ;  me  not  go  back.  Good  white 
man  sick.  Cough,  cough,  laugh,  say  '  all  right, 
me  got  a  little  tickle  in  windpipe/  No  say  he 
sick.  If  Running  Wolf  go  back  to  get  on  pony, 
white  man  get  on  one,  too,  ride,  ride,  tire  all  out; 
cough,  cough,  no  more  laugh.  Me  no  go  back." 


A    FRIEND    IN   NEED  237 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right ;  stay  here  and 
I'll  come  in  a  few  minutes." 

Father,  who  had  had  a  bad  night,  raised  no 
special  objections  to  my  taking  his  place  in 
going  over  the  mountain.  I  knew  very  well 
that  he  was  far  from  understanding  what  an 
undertaking  it  really  was,  and  was  thankful 
that  there  was  small  chance  of  his  being  enlight- 
ened. Florence,  who  appreciated  the  situation 
better,  objected  strenuously  to  my  going  on  such 
an  errand. 

"  You'll  get  lost ;  you'll  never  find  your  way 
home  alone  after  you  get  the  Indian  safe  to  the 
Reservation." 

"  Florence,  the  horses  will  know  the  home- 
ward trail  whether  I  do  or  not.  I'll  leave  it  to 
them  if  I  get  confused.  Don't  worry,  be  a  prac- 
tical Bo-peep,  and  expect  me  home  not  much 
later  than  usual." 

The  trip,  which  was  so  formidable  to  look  at 
was  accomplished  in  perfect  safety.  I  saw  the 
agent,  a  gentlemanly  man  with  a  rather  stern 
face,  who  politely  commended  what  he  was 


238  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

pleased  to  call  my  courage  and  kindness  in 
bringing  Running  Wolf  into  the  fold.  I  be- 
spoke his  clemency  for  the  silent  victim  who 
disdained  to  make  any  explanations  himself,  and, 
having  taken  dinner  with  the  agent's  wife,  and 
made  a  number  of  pleasant  acquaintances,  I  was 
in  the  saddle  and  on  my  homeward  way  before 
two  o'clock.  The  road  led  past  the  tepee  or 
lodge  or  whatever  he  called  it,  of  Running 
Wolf,  whom  I  found  seated  outside  his  abode 
waiting  to  give  me  a  parting  word,  which  I  ac- 
cepted in  the  same  spirit  of  friendliness  in  which 
it  was  offered,  although  I  had  not  the  faintest 
conception  of  its  meaning.  "Two  suns,  we 
come,  Light  of  Day.  Little  squaw  be  there," 
he  said. 

I  was  home  before  Florence,  and  a  good  deal 
elated  at  having  added  another  route  to  my  list 
of  mountain  trails.  I  was  anxious  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  country  in  all  directions. 

Rome  was  unusually  busy  with  his  irrigating 
ditch  about  this  time  and  we  saw  less  of  him 
than  usual,  but  he  happened  to  call  that  even- 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED  239 

ing.  He  had  been  down  to  Mr.  Davis'  store 
and  stopped  to  regale  us  with  some  bits  of  valley 
gossip  on  his  return. 

"  Wool's  gone  up ;  way  up,"  he  told  us,  among 
other  things.  "  If  you  can  get  your  sheep  sheared 
all  right,  Miss  Stanley,  you'll  make  a  pile  of 
money,  over  'n'  above  expenses ;  there's  been 
some  kind  of  a  disease  among  the  sheep  down 
South,  and  the  clip  don't  amount  to  more'n 
half  as  much  as  it  gen'lly  does.  That  shortage 
has  sent  the  price  of  wool  up  booming.  Your 
stock  is  in  prime  condition  now,  and  if  we  can 
get  the  shearing  done  and  the  clip  marketed 
while  the  price  is  up,  you'll  get  a  snug  pile  for 
your  summer's  work,  girls.  But,  gracious,  I 
wish't  some  one  would  tell  us  how  the  shearing's 
to  be  done.  When  this  business  does  pay  it  pays 
big  ;  when  it  don't  it  makes  one  feel  creepy.  I 
wish  I  could  shear  the  sheep  myself,  but  I  can't, 
and  there's  no  use  talking,  it  needs  about  forty 
good,  active  men.  They  would  get  it  all  done 
in  one  day.  I  reckon  it  would  take  me  single- 
handed,  with  what  I  don't  know  about  the 


240  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

business,  all  the  rest  of  my  natural  life,  and  I 
expect  to  live  to  be  pretty  old,  too." 

The  next  day,  while  I  watched  the  flock, 
Florence  rode  about  the  valley  again  in  hopeless 
quest  of  the  shearers  that,  apparently,  did  not 
exist.  The  swarthy  sons  of  Mexico  whom  she 
interviewed  blessed  her  going  and  her  coming, 
but  work  for  her  they  would  not.  I  am  afraid 
that  we  began  to  feel  unreasonably  bitter  toward 
them.  Our  need  of  their  services  was  so  great, 
we  offered  them  alluring  wages,  but  they  were 
afraid;  the  shadow  of  the  cattlemen's  wrath 
was  heavy  upon  them.  The  fire  of  that  wrath 
was  smoldering,  not  dead,  by  any  means, 
although,  save  social  and  commercial  ostracism, 
we  had  not  felt  its  fury  since  driving  the  sheep 
out  on  the  plains.  The  shearers  knew  very 
well  that  their  poor  homes,  their  lives,  even, 
were  in  danger  if  they  were  caught  giving  aid 
to  us,  the  innocent  owners  of  some  sheep  that 
these  cattlemen  had  said  should  not  remain  in 
the  valley — not  even  upon  land  that  belonged 
to  their  owners.  When  it  came  to  the  rights 


A   FRIEND    IN   NEED  241 

of  property  considered  from  that  standpoint, 
the  cattlemen  insisted  that  a  principle  was  at 
stake.  Beside,  the  land  outside  on  the  plains 
where  the  sheep  were  now  grazing  was  only 
leased  school  land,  and  some  of  the  cattlemen 
said  that  the  land  agent  had  no  right  to  lease 
land  for  sheep-grazing  purposes. 

It  gradually  dawned  upon  us  that  in  his  haste 
to  be  rid  of  his  troublesome  stock  Mr.  Seaton 
had  even  suffered  the  financial  loss  entailed  by 
not  shearing  the  sheep  when  they  were  in  his 
hands ;  for  it  was  a  thing  that  should  have  been 
done  before  they  came  into  our  possession.  That 
seemed  strange  at  first ;  afterward  it  did  not. 
It  resolved  itself  into  another  instance  of  Mr. 
Seaton's  far-reaching  shrewdnesSo  But  it  was 
quite  by  accident  that  we  discovered  that,  and 
this  is  not  the  time  to  tell  it. 

There  was  a  sort  of  outer  pen  built  in  connec- 
tion with  the  plains'  corral,  into  which  sheep 
were  driven  after  washing,  the  washing  pen  it- 
self being  built  out  into  the  San  Coulee  at  a  spot 
where  the  rugged,  precipitous  banks  happened 
16 


242  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

to  give  way,  allowing  an  easy  outlet  to  the 
plains.  From  this  water  pen  two  walled  lanes 
diverged,  the  one  leading  to  the  large  corral,  the 
other  to  the  outer  pen  where  they  were  penned 
after  washing  to  await  the  work  of  the  shearers. 

It  was  with  heavy  hearts  and  downcast  faces 
that  Florence  and  I  approached  the  scene  of  our 
daily  labors  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day 
after  I  had  helped  Running  Wolf  to  reach  the 
Reservation.  Florence  was  in  tears.  She  had 
worked  under  the  relentless  strain  of  a  newly 
awakened  sense  of  duty  during  all  these  weeks 
of  exposure  to  the  blazing  sun  on  fair  days  or 
the  cold,  misty  rain  on  the  infrequent  dark  days, 
and  now  saw  the  whole  profit  of  those  days  of 
toil,  and  all  that  we  hoped  to  gain  by  that  profit, 
slipping  through  our  helpless  fingers,  all  for  the 
want  of  a  few  men  for  a  few  hours. 

"  They  will  ruin  us ;  they  will  drive  us  away, 
Elsie,"  she  said,  brokenly.  "  We  cannot  stand 
up  against  them.  The  failure  to  get  shearers  is 
just  as  bad  for  us  in  every  way  as  the  stampede, 
and  more  discouraging.  They  mean  to  keep 


A    FRIEND  IN    NEED  243 

the  Mexicans  terrorized  so  that  they  will  not 
work  for  us.  I  don't  mean  about  the  herding — 
we  can  manage  that,  I  suppose,  even  in  winter,," 

The  question  of  the  care  of  this  great  herd  of 
sheep  in  winter  had  troubled  me  not  a  little, 
but  I  had  not  spoken  of  it,  for  the  reason  that  I 
was  trying  to  live  up  to  the  homely  wisdom 
embodied  in  President  Lincoln's  reply  to  the 
timid  fellow -traveler  who  was  anxiously  won- 
dering as  they  journeyed  toward  it  how  they 
were  to  cross  the  Sangamon  River,  the  stream 
being  at  flood  and  the  bridges  gone.  Lincoln 
said  impressively,  "  My  dear  sir,  I  make  it  a 
rule  never  to  cross  the  Sangamon  River  until  I 
get  there."  I  told  myself  that  I  would  not  allow 
the  thought  of  any  of  our  possible  bugbears  to 
worry  me  until  they  actually  confronted  me, 
but  in  the  case  of  the  sheep  shearing  the  bug- 
bear was  already  confronting  and  staring  us 
menacingly  in  the  face. 

As  we  surmounted  the  last  gentle  swell  that 
brought  us  in  sight  of  the  corral  where  we  had 
left  the  sheep  safely  penned  the  night  before, 


244  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

we  drew  rein  and  stared  in  speechless  amaze- 
ment at  the  scene  before  us.  The  sun  was  just 
rising,  sending  long,  level  shafts  of  light  straight 
from  his  throne  in  the  east  until  their  flaming 
glory  touched  and  transfigured  for  an  instant  a 
line  of  large  rounded  objects  strung  along  the 
river  bank  close  by  the  sheep-washing  pen, 
making  them  look,  for  the  nonce,  like  symmet- 
rical golden  haystacks.  Then  the  glory  faded, 
became  diffused,  and  we  saw  that  the  golden 
haystacks  were  only  a  half-dozen  dingy,  smoke- 
stained  Indian  tepees.  But  that  was  not  all ; 
the  sliding  gate  at  the  back  of  the  corral,  open- 
ing upon  the  water  lane,  had  been  unlocked  and 
a  line  of  reluctant  sheep  were  being  urged  along 
the  narrow  way  toward  the  water  pen  by  two  or 
three  swarthy  men.  Already — it  seemed  im- 
possible, but  we  had  the  evidence  of  our  own 
eyesight  for  it — a  score  or  more  of  shorn  and 
bleating  victims — looking  ridiculously  small 
and  foolish  without  the  heavy  fleeces  to  which 
we,  and  they,  had  become  accustomed — were 
venturing  timidly  out  toward  their  usual  feed- 


A    FRIEND    IN   NEED  245 

ing  grounds.  And  Felix  ?  Felix  with  his  alert, 
official  air,  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
urging  on  the  unwilling  candidates  for  a  bath, 
and  scattering  the  shivering,  silly  creatures  who 
hung  about  bewildered  by  the  transformation 
they  had  undergone  out  upon  the  plains.  He 
was  evidently  upon  the  best  of  terms  with  each 
and  every  member  of  the  swarthy  host  that  had 
encamped  beside  his  charges. 

"  What,  what  does  it  mean  ?"  gasped  Flor- 
ence. 

"  I'm  not  quite  sure,  Flossie ;  but  I  think  it 
means  that  our  sheep  shearing  is  well  under 
way,"  I  replied. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

THE    SHEARING   OF   THE   SHEEP 

WE  rode  nearer,  but  very  slowly.  Presently 
out  from  the  entrance  to  one  of  the  tepees,  a 
dusky  figure  hobbled,  stared  at  us  a  moment, 
and  then  advanced  to  meet  us.  It  was  Run- 
ning Wolf,  his  face  one  broad  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  Light  of  Day  sing ;  Indians  wash  sheep, 
shear  sheep,  all  done  soon,"  he  proclaimed, 
waving  his  hand  toward  the  scene  of  activity 
where,  it  appeared  to  me,  an  entire  Indian  tribe 
were  industriously  working. 

"  Why — but — but — Indians  !  I  never  knew 
that  they — could — would  do  such  things  !" 
stammered  Florence. 

"  These  good  Indians  ;  not  war-path  Indians. 
No."  There  was  a  grave  dignity  in  the  manner 
in  which  he  spoke  of  the  virtues  of  this  par- 
ticular tribe  that  seemed  to  forbid  further  in- 
246 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     247 

quiry.  Florence  and  I,  dazed  with  astonishment, 
rode  down  to  the  river  pen,  where  more  than  a 
dozen  men  were  washing  the  struggling  sheep. 
I  looked  attentively  at  the  Indians  in  the  water 
and  shearing-pen.  They  were  smaller,  as  a 
rule,  than  any  Indians  I  had  ever  before  seen  ; 
their  faces  were  brown,  their  white  teeth 
gleamed  through  lips  parted  in  frequent  good- 
natured  smiles ;  their  voices — when  they  spoke, 
which  was  seldom — were  mellow,  and  the 
few  low  words  that  they  used  were  Spanish, 
but  their  costume — what  there  was  of  it — was 
unmistakably,  indeed,  rather  obtrusively,  In- 
dian. 

They  worked  fast,  with  a  certain  air  of  sec- 
recy and  furtive  watchfulness.  One  slender, 
brown-limbed  brave  whom  I  saw  scrubbing  away 
at  a  sheep,  up  to  his  hips  in  water,  had  a  face 
so  like  that  of  our  own  vanished  Mexican  herder 
that  he  might — save  for  the  dress,  have  been  his 
twin  brother,  but  he  was  plainly  an  Indian,  for 
he  wore  an  eagle's  feather  dangling  loosely  from 
his  long  black  locks. 


248  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

"Elsie,"  whispered  Florence,  riding  up  to 
my  side,  "  they  are  Mexicans."  Running  Wolf, 
who  had  hobbled  quickly  after  us,  laid  his  hand 
on  her  pony's  mane. 

"  They  are  Indians,  Light  of  Day,  they  are 
Indians !"  he  declared,  almost  fiercely.  En- 
lightenment was  slowly  dawning  upon  us. 

"  They  are  Indians — for  to-day,"  I  said. 

Running  Wolf  looked  at  me,  his  keen  eyes 
flashing. 

"  Mexican  shearer  'fraid  of  cattleman ;  git  out 
here ;  git  shot,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Traid  to 
shear  'em  sheep  for  white  squaws.  Indian  not 
'fraid.  Agency  officers  goin'  make  it  hot  for 
any  man  what  hurt  Indian.  Cattleman  let 
Indian  'lone.  Cowboy  ride  'long  past  corral ; 
see  Indian  shearin',  scowl,  say  nottin',  go  'bout 
their  business  " — which  was,  in  fact,  a  thing 
that  had  already  happened.  "See  Mexican 
shearin',"  continued  Running  Wolf  impres- 
sively, "  ride  up,  say,  '  Ho,  you  scoundrels !  git 
out  o'  that  or  I  shoot !'  Mexican  then  git  out, 
sheep  no  shear." 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     249 

"  But  what  if  the  cowboys  go  to  the  Mexican 
houses  and  find  them  gone  ?"  I  asked. 

Running  Wolf  chuckled.  "No  fin'  'em — 
gone ;  all  men  'roun'  home.  Mexicans  to-day  ; 
Indians  to-morrow." 

This,  then,  was  Running  Wolfs  strategic 
scheme,  as  well  as  the  explanation  of  his  last 
words  to  me.  There  were  fifty  or  more  men  at 
work  in  and  around  the  corral,  which  meant  that 
Running  Wolf  had  been  able  to  install  as  many 
Indians  for  the  day  in  the  various  Mexican 
houses  up  and  down  the  Coulee.  The  plan  was 
as  safe  as  it  was  shrewd,  for,  even  if,  as  was  not 
very  likely  to  happen,  an  inquisitive  rider 
should  stop  at  one  of  the  Mexican  houses,  the 
head  of  the  family  had  but  to  show  himself  at 
a  safe  distance — out  of  talking  range — and  slink 
away,  leaving  the  burden  of  conversation  to  be 
carried  on  by  the  women.  This  was  customary, 
as  the  women  were,  almost  without  exception, 
much  better  linguists  than  the  men. 

"  Running  Wolf,"  I  said  in  a  burst  of  grat- 
itude, "  your  plan  is  glorious  !  glorious !  But 


250  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

how  in  the  world  did  you  get  permission  to 
bring  so  many  men  from  the  Reservation  ?" 

"  Indian  police  bad  Indians,  been  drinking 
much  firewater  las'  two  day,"  replied  Running 
Wolf  with  a  gravity  that  repelled  the  suspicion 
that  he  himself  might  have  been  instrumental 
in  furnishing  the  betraying  firewater  to  the 
mounted  police  whose  duty  it  was  to  patrol  the 
Indian  village  and  make  sure  that  none  were 
missing. 

"  You  goin'  give  two  wage  for  dis'  ?"  Running 
Wolf  asked  suddenly. 

"  You  mean  double  pay  ?     Yes,  we  will." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No  mean  two  pays  for 
one  man.  One  day  wage  for  mens  here ;  one 
day  wage  for  mens  in  houses." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  yes  indeed.  I  see  now.  It  shall 
be  just  as  you  say,  Running  Wolf,  and  we  are, 
oh,  so  grateful  to  you  besides.  You  are  the 
general  who  planned  all  this,  and  have  taken  so 
much  risk  with  your  lame  foot  and  all,  you  will 
let  us  pay  you — " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  the  Indian  quickly.    "You 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     251 

goiii'  pay  me  big,  big !"  There  was  a  sudden 
lighting  of  his  saturnine  countenance,  "you 
goin'  pay  me  now." 

"  How  ?"  I  asked  in  some  alarm. 

"  Light  of  Day  goin'  sit  on  yon'  rock  near 
wash-pen  and  sing,  '  In  the  fair-hy  li-hight, 
of  a  sum-mah  ni-ght,  on  'e  ba-hanks  of  'e  bl-hue 
more-shell!'"  There  was  something  inexpress- 
ibly ludicrous  in  the  old  man's  attempt — made 
in  absolute  good  faith — to  imitate  Florence's 
voice  and  even  the  little  affectations  of  her 
pronunciation. 

Flossie's  face  turned  scarlet.  I  bit  my  lips 
and  looked  long  at  the  mirage  of  spectre  pine 
trees,  gliding  and  breaking  in  endless  procession 
at  the  base  of  the  far-off  Rattlesnake  Buttes, 
before  I  could  find  voice  to  say  steadily,  "  I 
think  that  is  a  very  nice  arrangement." 

"  Yes,  I  make  that  'rangement  with  shearers. 
They  work.  Light  of  Day  sing.  Little  dark 
squaw  look  on.  Come." 

We  had  already  dismounted,  letting  our 
ponies'  bridles  trail  cowboy  fashion,  while  they 


252  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

grazed  at  will.  We  followed  Running  Wolf  to 
the  place  indicated.  He  had  already  spread  a 
blanket  on  the  rock.  Florence  seated  herself 
and  sang  steadily  for  nearly  two  hours,  Run- 
ning Wolf  lying  prone  upon  the  ground  at  her 
feet  and  keeping  his  eyes  closed  in  a  state  of 
blissful  silence.  He  paid  no  attention  what- 
ever to  the  shearers ;  his  business  had  been  to 
get  them  there.  They  could  do  the  rest. 

Florence,  who  was  getting  very  tired,  said  at 
last,  "  My  sister  sings." 

"Ugh— mebbe — don't  look  like  it.  Sing," 
commanded  our  benefactor.  I  complied  with 
the  order  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  when  I 
had  concluded  he  complimented  my  performance 
by  remarking :  "  Little  dark  squaw  like  mock 
bird ;  not  much  to  look  at ;  good  to  hear  sing. 
Sing  again."  The  poor  old  fellow's  spiritual 
nature  was  starved,  he  was  insatiable  in  his 
eagerness  for  music,  yet  he  evidently  did  not 
intend  to  be  at  all  hard  on  us,  only,  to  an  Indian, 
a  woman  of  whatever  color  is  always  a  squaw 
and  no  more. 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     253 

When,  later  than  usual,  Florence  and  I 
mounted  our  ponies  and  started  home  that 
evening,  there  was  no  sign  of  an  Indian  en- 
campment anywhere  in  the  vicinity,  but  the 
corral  sheds  were  piled  high  with  hundreds  of 
pounds  of  clean,  white  fleeces,  and  inside  the 
corral  two  thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  newly-shorn  sheep  huddled,  crouching  to- 
gether for  warmth.  Felix,  with  the  satisfied  air 
of  one  who  has  done  a  good  day's  work,  as,  in- 
deed, he  had,  lay  in  his  box  beside  the  closed 
gates,  his  nose  on  his  paws,  his  watchful  eyes 
blinking  drowsily.  We  were  both  so  hoarse 
from  much  singing  that  we  could  scarcely  speak, 
but  our  hearts  were  light,  lighter  than  they  had 
been  since  the  night  that  the  Mexican  herders 
had  come  to  tell  us  that  they  could  no  longer 
work  for  us,  for  the  clip  was  saved,  and  the 
payment  on  our  home  assured.  Running  Wolf 
had  stipulated  that  we  should  "  make  no  talk  " 
as  he  expressed  it,  but  should  put  the  pay  for 
the  day's  work  in  a  hollow  rock  beside  the  trail 
to  the  upper  Coulee,  the  location  of  which  he 


254  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

minutely  described.  "  Put  it  there  to-night, 
then  go  home,"  he  admonished  us.  The  place 
that  he  mentioned  was  about  a  mile  from  our 
cottage. 

We  got  the  money  of  Aunt  Matilda,  who 
fairly  cried  with  joy  when  she  found  what  had 
taken  place,  then  rode  to  the  rock,  and  were 
back  again  by  the  time  twilight  had  fairly 
merged  into  early  night.  Rome  called  that 
evening,  much  troubled  in  mind  over  our  un- 
shorn sheep — it  was  an  exquisite  pleasure  to 
tell  him  that  the  work  was  done.  "  Done  by  a 
band  of  roving  Indians  from  the  Reservation." 

"  I'm  all-fired  glad  it's  done  in  some  way," 
he  said,  "  but  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  knew  a 
Reservation  Indian  to  do  anything  so  much  like 
work." 

It  really  seemed  disloyal  to  this  good  man, 
who  had  always  been  such  a  steadfast  friend 
in  time  of  need,  not  to  tell  him  how  the  work 
had  been  done.  I  reasoned  that  Running  Wolf 
himself  would  probably  have  made  an  exception 
in  his  favor,  and  so  I  told  him,  forgetting  in  the 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     255 

interest  of  my  story  that  father's  door  was  open 
and  that  it  was  quite  too  early  for  him  to  be 
asleep.  He  had  retired  very  early,  being  more 
than  usually  tired  from  the  effect  of  a  day's 
labor  in  which  it  had  been  impossible  to  make 
use  of  Johnny's  willing  but  ignorant  help.  He 
had  been  enlarging  his  brick-kiln,  and  Johnny 
could  not  understand  his  directions,  so,  as  I  have 
said,  father  went  to  bed  very  weary,  but  my 
story  woke  him  up  most  effectually.  He  arose, 
dressed  in  silence,  and  came  out  into  the  room 
where  we  were  sitting. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  said,  sitting 
down  quite  heedless  of  our  ill-concealed  con- 
sternation. "  Why  was  all  this  secrecy  neces- 
sary about  the  sheep  shearing?  Why  has 
it  been  so  difficult  all  along  for  us  to  hire 
herders  when  there  are  scores  of  Mexicans  out 
of  work  here  in  the  valley  ?  Why  did  Mr. 
Seaton  allow  the  herders  that  we  did  have  to 
keep  the  flock  penned  in  the  upper  valley  until 
they  were  half  starved  ?  Why — " 

"  Don't  you  think  you  have  asked  questions 


256  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

enough  for  one  evening,  Hugh?"  asked  Aunt 
Matilda  with  unusual  asperity.  I  think  she 
was  rather  frightened  as  to  the  effect  on  him  of 
the  disclosure  that  she  foresaw  must  come. 

"  No,  Matilda,  I  don't ;  my  only  regret  is 
that  I  have  been  too  stupidly  selfish  to  ask  them 
before.  Now  I  mean  to  find  out.  I  mean  to 
find  out  why  a  band  of  Mexican  sheep  shearers 
must  masquerade  as  Indians  before  they  can 
safely  do  their  work,  if  I  have  to  walk  over  the 
mountain  to  ask  old  Running  Wolf  himself, 
who  seems  to  know  all  about  our  business." 

"I  told  him,"  confessed  Aunt  Matilda;  "I 
was  in  sore  distress,  I  had  to  tell  some  one." 

"And  not  having  any  brother  handy  you 
chose  our  red  friend  as  a  confidant ;  your  choice 
seems  to  have  been  a  wise  one." 

"  Now,  Hugh,  we  kept  it  from  you  lest  it 
should  worry  you.  You  would  not  have  been 
in  such  health  as  you  are  to-day  if  you  had 
known  all." 

"  Perhaps  not,  Mattie.  I  do  not  question  the 
unselfishness  of  your  motive.  You  have  all 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     257 

sacrificed  yourselves  for  me  as  usual.  You 
have  meant  to  spare  me — what  ?" 

Evasion  or  concealment  was  now  out  of  the 
question. 

"  You  tell  him,  Rome,"  said  Aunt  Matilda, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  yields  against  her 
better  judgment.  "  We've  got  the  wool  clip, 
any  way,"  she  murmured,  fortifying  herself 
with  that  fact. 

"  I  have  suspected  for  some  time  that  all  was 
not  right,"  father  said,  when  Rome  had  related 
at  length  the  attitude  and  claims  of  the  cattle- 
men, "but  I  am  so  proud  of  my  girls,  my  two 
brave,  unselfish  girls,  that  it  is  almost  worth 
while  to  have  had  this  experience,  hard  as  it  is, 
just  to  know  what  they  can  do  when  the  occa- 
sion calls  for  it.  But  it  won't  do  to  try  even  the 
highest  mettle  beyond  a  certain  point,  you  know, 
and  it  appears  to  me  we  have  quite  reached  that 
point." 

"  Why,  papa  I"  ejaculated  Florence  hoarsely, 
"  when  the  clip  is  all  wooled — I  mean  when 
the  wool  is  all  clipped,  and  stored  ready  for 
17 


258  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

marketing !  And  if  you  are  going  to  talk 
of  bravery,  think  of  Running  Wolf  and  his 
band  of  kidnapped  followers  !  May  the  Agency 
officers  be  good  to  them  I" 

"  The  day's  experience  seems  to  have  tried 
your  voice  as  well  as  that  of  the  little  dark 
squaw,"  father  said,  laughingly.  "  But  it's  all 
too  risky ;  we  had  better  give  in  to  the  cattle- 
men— until  such  time  as  they  think  best  to 
keep  sheep  themselves  at  least.  You  have,  if 
you  will  forgive  me  for  saying  it,  followed  your 
noses  too  closely  ;  you  have  not  even  entertained 
the  idea,  it  appears,  that  there  can  be  any  other 
business  than  sheep  ranching." 

"  Well,  with  wool  at  twenty-five  cents  a 
pound,  as  it  is  in  Belmont  to-day,  there  ain't 
much  use  in  thinking  of  anything  else,"  inter- 
posed Rome.  "Your  venture,  thanks  to  your  own 
kindness  and  the  young  ladies  singing  and  old 
Running  Wolf's  "susceptibility,  has  turned  out 
most  uncommon  well,  or  it  will  have  turned 
out  so  if  we  get  the  clip  marketed  whilst  the 
price  is  up,  and  I'll  help  you  see  to  that.  The 


THE  SHEARING  OF  THE  SHEEP     259 

cattlemen  make  a  big  mistake  in  running 
all  the  sheep  out  of  this  country,  but  they'll 
stick  to  it  for  awhile  now  if  it's  only  out 
of  spite." 

Within  three  days  the  clip  was  marketed, 
the  balance  due  Mr.  Seaton  for  the  ranch  sent 
him,  and  a  goodly  sum  left  to  our  credit  in  the 
bank  as  the  result  of  our  summer's  work. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

NEWS   FROM    HOME 

FATHER  was  so  aroused  by  what  he  had  heard 
of  the  dangers  attendant  upon  sheep  ranching 
in  a  country  dominated  by  cattlemen,  that  the 
purpose  he  had  declared  of  getting  rid  of  the 
flock  did  not  flag  as  the  days  went  by.  The 
necessity  for-  action,  for  arousing  himself  to  an 
intelligent  comprehension  of  the  matter,  so  far 
from  unduly  exciting  him,  or  making  him  worse, 
seemed,  really,  to  do  him  good.  The  store, 
where  we  were  in  the  habit  of  purchasing  such 
supplies  as  were  not  brought  in  by  the  freight 
wagons  by  special  arrangement,  had  become 
rather  a  favorite  lounging  place  with  him,  and, 
it  is  probable,  he  would  soon  have  found  out  all 
that  we  did  not  wish  him  to  know  in  regard  to 
the  way  our  neighbors  felt  toward  us  had  not 
Aunt  Matilda  taken  the  precaution  to  visit  ths 
storekeeper  and  earnestly  impress  upon  him  the 
260 


NEWS    FROM   HOME  261 

necessity  of  keeping  such  troublesome  knowl- 
edge from  the  invalid.  Mr.  Davis  promised  to 
do  his  best  in  this  particular,  and  he  kept  his 
word.  He  succeeded  so  well  that  father  never 
so  much  as  suspected  the  reason  why  Mr.  Davis 
was  so  prone  to  direct  his  attention  to  some 
object  of  interest  outside  of  the  store  when  there 
was  any  one  present  whom  he  thought  it  best 
that  father  should  not  meet.  But  the  time  of 
blissful  ignorance  was  past,  now  that  the  wool 
was  sold  and  the  last  dollar  of  our  indebtedness 
on  the  San  Coulee  ranch  paid,  he  announced  to 
Aunt  Matilda  that  he  was  going  to  see  Mr. 
Davis  and  have  a  talk  with  him  as  to  what  was 
best  to  be  done  with  our  woolly  charges. 

Aunt  Matilda  no  longer  objected.  "  We've 
had  such  wonderful  luck,"  she  said,  "  it  seems 
almost  like  tempting  providence  to  ask  that  it 
should  be  continued."  But  afterward  her  sense 
of  caution  took  alarm  and  she  said,  "  I  do  hope, 
Hugh,  that  you're  not  thinking  of  buying  Mr. 
Davis'  store !"  Since  the  ranch  was  paid  for 
and  money  still  in  the  bank  she  seemed  to  feel 


262  THE  GIRL  RANCHERS 

that  we  were  really  another  lot  of  Roths- 
childs. 

Father  smiled.  "  I'll  not  buy  it  to-day,  Mat- 
tie,  unless  he  will  sell  for — let  me  see — "  he  felt 
in  his  pockets  and  presently  fished  out  a  nickel 
— "  for  five  cents,  and  I  doubt  if  he'll  do  that." 

"  He  sells  five  sticks  of  peppermint  for  a 
nickel,"  Vevie  informed  him. 

Father  tossed  up  the  coin.  "  Get  your  hat 
and  come  with  me,  will-o'-the-wisp.  We'll  see 
if  he  can  have  any  peppermint  left  at  that 
price." 

When  he  returned  in  the  afternoon  he  looked 
elated.  "  The  difficulty  is  solved,  Mattie,"  he 
said  as  he  entered  the  house  with  the  step  that 
was  still  slow  and  feeble  for  all  his  buoyant 
spirit. 

"  Well,  you've  earned  a  rest,  then,"  aunt  said, 
pulling  an  easy  chair  toward  a  sunny  corner. 
"  I  just  expect  nothing  else  but  that  you'll  be 
down  sick  with  all  this  worry ;  I  wish  we  had 
never  let  you  into  our  silly  troubles  that  we 
ought  to  have  borne  alone." 


NEWS   FROM   HOME  263 

"  I  shall  never  cease  to  wonder  that  you  and 
the  girls  were  able  to  bear  them  alone  so  long, 
Matilda ;  but  now  that  the  ranch  is  paid  for,  I 
think  we  may  safely  embark  in  another  business. 
Something  in  which  we  will  need  no  help  but 
such  as  Johnny  can  give  and  that  will  not 
oblige  my  poor  girls  to  expose  themselves  to 
such  perils  as  they  have  been  doing." 

"  Whatever  it  is,  if  it  can  do  that,  it  will  be 
a  welcome  change,"  Aunt  Matilda  admitted. 
"  But,  indeed,  Hugh,  I'm  afraid  there  is 
nothing.  If  you — you  are  thinking  of  some 
new  invention,"  she  went  on  hesitatingly.  "  I 
know,  of  course,  that  it  will  be  a  good  one, 
but—" 

"  It  will  be  a  new  invention  in  San  Coulee, 
Mattie,"  father  said,  smiling.  "  Come,  now, 
Matilda,  these  cattle  kings  have  snubbed  and 
hounded  us,  suppose  we  return  good  for  evil  by 
supplying  them  with  fruit." 

Aunt  Matilda's  face  fell.  "  If  you  mean  that 
we  are  to  start  a  fruit  ranch,  Hugh,  it's  the  one 
thing  I  would  like  above  all  others.  Poor 


264  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Johnny  would  be  just  as  useful  then  as  one 
with  the  brightest  wits,  but  I'm  afraid  it's  im- 
possible." 

"  I  see  that  you  have  given  the  matter  some 
thought.  Among  other  things  have  you  ever 
thought  of  an  irrigating  ditch  ?" 

"An  irrigating  ditch?  Why,  Hugh,  it 
would  take  a  fortune  to  bring  the  waters  of 
San  Coulee,  deep  as  the  stream  is  in  its  banks, 
up  to  the  level  of  our  acres  !" 

"  There  is  a  singularly  obliging  fellow  by  the 
name  of  Rome  Beaumont,  who  has  succeeded 
in  turning  the  San  Coulee,  or  the  south  branch 
of  it,  which  is,  I  am  told,  more  tractable  than 
the  main  stream,  in  the  direction  that  he 
wishes  it  to  flow.  The  ditch  on  which  he  has 
been  so  long  working  is  completed.  He  was 
compelled  to  blast  a  tunnel  through  a  half 
dozen  yards  of  solid  rock  to  get  the  water  where 
he  wants  it,  but  he's  got  it.  Instead  of  turning 
his  ditch  back  into  the  main  river,  as  he  does 
now,  after  it  has  served  his  purpose,  there  can 
be  nothing  easier,  Mr.  Davis  says,  than  to  bring 


NEWS   FROM    HOME  265 

it  skirting  along  the  edge  of  our  valley.  Then 
we  can  irrigate  every  inch  of  our  land  if  we 
choose." 

"  I'm  thinking  that's  what  we'll  choose !" 
cried  Aunt  Matilda  with  sparkling  eyes.  "  If 
we  can  really  get  water  on  this  land,  we  never 
need  trouble  ourselves  as  to  the  future.  I  tell 
you  now,  Hugh,  it  has  almost  broken  my 
heart  to  see  our  girls  obliged  to  do  the  work 
they  have  done  this  summer.  And  they  have 
done  it  so  cheerfully,  too,  even  Florence,  and 
you  know  how  she  has  always  regarded  any 
personal  hardship  hitherto." 

"  Yes ;  but  it  will  break  my  heart  if  they 
are  obliged  to  keep  this  up  much  longer." 

"  I  haven't  seemed  to  mind  their  doing  it," 
Aunt  Matilda  went  on,  "  because  I  knew  they 
had  to  do  it ;  there  was  no  choice ;  now  it  is 
different.  We  must  see  Rome  and  get  his  ad- 
vice about  disposing  of  the  flock.  He'll  be 
glad  enough  to  do  that ;  he's  always  wanted  us 
to  sell." 

"  Has  he  ?     He's  a  good  man." 


266  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

"And  so  disinterested,  too!"  Aunt  Matilda 
declared  warmly. 

"  Oh !  yes,  yes ;  but  do  you  think,  Matilda, 
that  he's  entirely  disinterested  ?" 

"Well,  Hugh,  I  am  surprised!  You  are 
usually  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  attribute 
a  kindness  to  interested  motives.  I — really, 
Hugh,  it  pains  me  to  hear  you  speak  in  that 
way.  He  would  never  take  any  pay,  and  he 
never  spared  himself  in  our  service.  I  own 
that  I  did  think,  along  at  first,  that  he  might 
be  attracted  by  Florence,  but  I'm  quite  sure 
that  was  a  mistake.  He  is  so  much  older  than 
she,  and — " 

"  He's  just  about  your  age,  isn't  he,  Mattie  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  is ;  just  about." 

Father's  eyes  were  twinkling.  Aunt's  face — 
still  very  fresh  and  sweet  to  look  upon,  turned 
a  glowing  crimson.  She  sat  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  considering  the  revelation  that  father's 
words  afforded.  Presently  Vevie,  who  had  been 
sitting  at  the  table  poring  over  a  book  with 
absorbed  interest,  brought  the  volume  to  her. 


NEWS   FROM   HOME  267 

It  was  a  drawing-book,  filled  with  sketches  for 
the  benefit  of  the  portrait  painter.  Vevie  had 
been  studying  the  page  devoted  to  the  delinea- 
tion of  human  mouths.  "  Do  you  think  one  of 
those  might  be  a  miner's  mouth,  auntie?"  she 
inquired  seriously. 

Aunt,  grown  suddenly  sensitive  on  the  sub- 
ject of  miners,  turned  red.  "  I  don't  know,  I'm 
sure  ;  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Mr.  Davis  said  that  we  could  raise  straw- 
berries here  big  enough  to  fill  a  miner's  mouth. 
I  wanted  to  know  how  big  that  would  be,  but 
if  you  don't  know,  I'll  ask  Mr.  Rome  to  let  me 
measure  his  mouth  when  he  comes  again." 

Father  laughed  aloud  at  that.  "  Darling,  we'll 
raise  some  large  enough  to  fill  your  mouth,  at 
all  events.  Oh,  Matilda,  I  have  a  letter  for 
you  ;  I  had  nearly  forgotten  it."  He  fumbled 
in  two  or  three  different  pockets  before  finding 
it,  but,  just  as  aunt  was  resignedly  coming  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  had  either  lost  or  mislaid 
it,  he  brought  it  forth.  "  From  our  esthetic 
friend,  Mrs.  Elliot,  I  judge,  from  the  style  of 


268  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

the  envelope.  You  observe  that  there  is  a  crest. 
What  is  it  ?  A  small  fairy  with  large  wings  ?" 

"  They  are  the  wings  of  a  goose,  if  any.  It 
puts  me  out  of  all  patience  to  see  such  affecta- 
tion." 

Aunt  Matilda  tore  the  letter  open  with  small 
regard  for  the  crest.  We  had  little  time  for 
letter-writing  in  those  busy  days,  and  news  from 
our  old  home  was  eagerly  welcomed,  crest  or  no 
crest.  The  chief  interest  of  Mrs.  Elliot's  letter 
lay  in  the  closing  paragraph. 

"  By  the  way,"  it  ran,  "  I  met  young  Donald 
Arleigh  on  the  street  this  afternoon.  He  is 
looking  extremely  well,  even  handsome — " 
"As  if  he  didn't  always  look  handsome,"  mut- 
tered Aunt  Matilda,  indignantly.  "  It  was 
quite  a  surprise  to  me  to  learn,"  the  letter  went 
on,  "  as  I  did  when  he  addressed  me  that  he 
had  no  knowledge  of  your  removal  from  the 
city.  He  was  desirous  of  obtaining  your  pres- 
ent address,  which  I  took  pleasure  in  giving 
him,  for  it  may  be  that  he  is  as  the  prodigal 
son  returning  to  his  husks — I  should  say,  from 


NEWS   FROM   HOME  269 

his  husks — and  a  word  of  friendly  greeting  now 
may  set  the  young  man's  wandering  feet  in  the 
right  path."  Aunt  read  the  paragraph  aloud 
deliberately,  then  she  laid  the  letter  down  softly 
with  a  low  sigh.  The  mention  of  Donald's 
name  was  to  tear  a  healing  wound  afresh.  After 
an  interval  father  said,  in  a  quivering  voice : 

"  I  could  bear  it  better,  Matilda,  if  the  mys- 
tery of  his  disappearance  could  be  explained ; 
if  he  had  a  reason  for — Oh  !  Donald,  Donald !" 
The  words  ended  in  a  groan. 

"Don't,  Hugh." 

Father  got  up  and  began  to  walk  the  room 
greatly  agitated.  Vevie,  the  spiritual  echo  of 
another's  moods,  went  to  his  side,  and,  slipping 
her  hand  into  his,  gravely  kept  step  with  him. 
Then  the  greyhound  rose  and  trailed  solemnly 
after  them.  Father  stopped,  the  black  shadow 
lifted  from  his  face  as  he  sat  down  and  took 
Vevie  on  his  knee. 

"  We  make  quite  a  circus,  darling,  you  and  I 
and  Calif.  Come,  let  us  tell  auntie  some  more 
of  what  Mr.  Davis  said  about  our  fruit  ranch." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A   SECOND    STAMPEDE 

I  HAD  formed  the  habit,  since  coming  to 
Coulee  valley,  of  awaking  very  early,  and  I 
usually  treated  myself,  in  consequence,  to  a  few 
minutes  silent  listening  to  the  chorus  of  mocking 
birds,  as  they  sang  their  loudest  in  the  hour 
just  before  dawn.  In  June  they  had  nested  in 
the  cottonwood  grove  on  the  flat,  just  below  the 
turn  of  the  river,  and  their  songs  were  enough 
to  make  one  thankful  that  God  had  put  such 
bits  of  feathered  melody  on  earth.  In  Sep- 
tember they  still  haunted  the  grove,  with  a  less 
jubilant  song.  I  awoke  as  usual  one  morning 
and  lay  listening  drowsily,  knowing  that  when 
their  more  sleepy-headed  rivals,  the  golden 
robins  in  the  alder  thickets  along  the  river 
itself,  took  up  the  strain,  it  would  be  time  to 
get  up  and  begin  preparations  for  the  day's 
work.  But  I  was  destined  not  to  hear  the 
270 


A   SECOND   STAMPEDE  271 

golden  robins  that  morning,  or,  if  I  did,  not 
to  heed  them ;  I  was  thinking  how  like  half- 
smothered  musical  laughter  the  songs  of  the 
mocking  birds  sounded,  when  a  sharp,  insistent 
whisper  reached  my  ears.  "  Elsie,  Elsie,  Elsie ! 
come  down,  quick !"  The  whisper  came  from 
Aunt  Matilda,  and  she  was  not  speaking  in  that 
tone  without  reason.  I  dressed  quickly,  but 
silently,  in  order  not  to  awaken  Florence,  and 
stole  down  to  her  side  as  she  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  "  Come  here,"  she  whispered, 
taking  my  hand  and  leading  me  to  the  outer 
door  which  stood  slightly  ajar.  "What  is 
that  ?"  she  whispered.  "  I've  been  listening  to 
it  for  the  last  twenty  minutes ;  what  can  it  be?" 

I  knew  what  it  was.  Had  I  not  become 
familiarized  to  that  sound  through  long,  lonely 
days  on  the  ranch,  until  it  followed  and  haunted 
me,  even  in  dreams?  It  was  the  soft  thud, 
thudding,  made  by  the  feet  of  scores  of  sheep — 
sheep  that  were  being  driven  rapidly,  yet  with- 
out noise,  along  the  sandy  highway. 

"  It's  a  drove  of  sheep,  auntie,"  I  whispered 


272  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

back,  my  teeth  beginning  to  chatter,  for  the 
hour  before  dawn  is  always  cold  in  the  valley  of 
San  Coulee. 

"  Rome  said  that  there  was  no  drove  but  ours 
within  a  hundred  miles,"  murmured  Aunt  Ma- 
tilda. 

"  This  may  be  a  drove  that  is  being  driven 
down  to  the  winter  range  in  Southern  Colorado 
from  some  place  further  up.  You  know  Rome 
said  that  the  shortest  and  easiest  pass  through 
the  mountains,  to  the  south,  lies  along  the 
Coulee." 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  a  glimpse  of  their  ear- 
marks," aunt  whispered,  anxiously,  without 
heeding  my  explanation. 

"  Why,  Aunt  Matilda !"  I  exclaimed,  startled. 
"You  surely  cannot  think  that  these  are  our 
sheep!  And  Felix  on  guard,  and  the  gates 
locked !" 

"  A  bullet  would  kill  Felix  as  quickly  as  it 
would  a  man,  Elsie ;  and  as  for  the  gates — " 

I  caught  up  a  shawl.  "Aunt  Matilda,  I  am 
going  to  find  out  whose  sheep  they  are.  I  am 


A   SECOND   STAMPEDE  273 

going  to  the  top  of  that  rock  beside  the  readjust 
as  it  turns  toward  the  upper  valley.  I  can  slip 
along  the  underbrush  and  no  one  will  see  me." 

"  I  suppose  you  can,  but  it's  so  dark  you  can 
make  out  nothing." 

"  It's  growing  lighter  every  minute ;  it  will 
be  quite  light  enough  for  me  to  see  the  sheep 
by  the  time  I  get  there  ;  I  shall  know  then 
whether  it's  worth  while  for  me  to  go  out  on  the 
range." 

"  Go  then,  but  be  careful.  Oh,  Elsie,  be 
careful !  Stay.  I  will  go  with  you." 

"  No,  no,  indeed,  Aunt  Matilda  !  I  shall  be 
safer  alone.  I  know  the  road  so  much  better 
than  you." 

"  That  is  true  ;  go  at  once." 

The  rock  in  question  was  fully  a  mile  away, 
and  the  sheep  were  now  nearly  abreast  of  the 
house.  We  had  closed  the  door  and,  screened 
by  the  darkness,  were  peering  from  a  window. 
It  was  impossible  to  distinguish  any  separate 
form  ;  only  a  moving  mass  of  lighter  darkness 
as  the  sheep  trotted  swiftly  past.  If  the 
18 


274  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

driving  was  legitimate  it  was  merciless;  the 
poor  creatures  were  too  hard-pressed  to  waste 
breath  in  making  complaint.  I  made  out 
faintly,  one,  two,  three  large,  vague  forms  fol- 
lowing close  in  the  rear  of  the  sheep  and  knew 
that  they  were  those  of  mounted  men.  But 
how  still  they  were  !  There  was  absolutely  no 
sound  of  a  horse's  footfall ;  it  might  have  been, 
for  all  the  noise  they  made,  a  spectral  flock,  fol- 
lowed by  phantom  riders.  I  stole  to  the  back 
door,  opened  and  closed  it  softly,  made  my 
way  past  the  hay  stacks  and  corral  and  so  down 
into  a  ravine  that  ran  for  some  distance  nearly 
parallel  with  the  road.  I  stumbled  and  fell  a 
good  many  times,  running  in  such  haste  and 
in  darkness,  but  I  picked  myself  up  and  ran 
the  faster  for  every  recurring  delay.  I  tore 
my  dress  from  the  sharp  branches  of  wait-a-bit 
thorns,  and  in  doing  so  scratched  my  face  until 
it  bled.  My  hands  were  bruised  and  skinned 
from  contact  with  sharp  fragments  of  rock,  as 
I  flung  them  out  wildly  in  the  effort  to  break 
the  force  of  my  frequent  tumbles ;  but  I  ran  on. 


A   SECOND   STAMPEDE  275 

I  must  reach  that  rock  and  scale  it  before  it  was 
light  enough  for  those  advancing  horsemen  to 
see  me,  and  the  daylight  grew  apace.  All  the 
time  that  soft  thud,  thud,  thud  came  swiftly 
along  the  road,  but  always  a  little  farther 
behind  me,  so  that  I  knew  I  was  distancing 
the  flock.  I  was  spent  and  breathless,  my 
knees  shook  under  me,  when,  all  at  once,  a 
blacker  darkness  loomed  before  me.  I  had 
reached  the  end  of  the  ravine,  and  the  barring 
darkness  was  the  rock  itself.  I  climbed  it 
almost  breathless,  and  lay  along  its  top  entirely 
concealed  from  the  observation  of  any  one  be- 
neath, by  a  friendly  fringe  of  bushes,  yet 
having  an  unobstructed  view  of  the  road  as  it 
wound  along  below  me.  The  windings  of  the 
road  obliged  the  sheep  drivers  to  cover  a  mile 
and  a  half  to  my  one,  so  I  had  time  to  regain 
my  breath,  and  to  break  off  a  branch  or  two 
from  the  friendly  bushes  and  stick  them  up 
in  front  of  me  for  a  more  effectual  screen, 
before  the  foremost  of  the  sheep  came  in  sight. 
It  was  now  quite  light.  I  looked  at  them, 


276  THE  GIRL   RANCHERS 

and  the  one  look  was  enough.  They  were 
ours.  I  could  not  help  thinking,  even  then, 
that  if  they  were  to  be  so  mercilessly  driven  it 
was  fortunate  for  them  that  they  had  not  to 
carry  the  heavy  fleeces  that  they  had  lately 
worn. 

I  was  bent  on  finding  out  who  was  driving 
them,  and  that  proved  an  easy  task.  Safely 
past  our  house  and  out  of  earshot  they  had  re- 
laxed their  caution  and  were  talking  in  low 
tones,  but  their  conversation  was  anything  but 
amiable. 

"  I  wouldn't  a  had  it  happen  for  the  value  of 
the  whole  denied  flock,"  declared  a  voice  that  I 
knew,  and  that,  heard  now,  brought  my  heart 
into  my  mouth.  "  The  whole  thing's  been  purty 
nigh  a  fizzle,  jest  on  account  of  your  bein'  so 
everlastingly  ready  with  your  shootin'  irons." 

The  voice  was  that  of  Mr.  Seaton.  Another 
voice  replied  harshly : 

"  What's  the  use  of  makin'  such  a  fuss  about 
that  ?  I  couldn't  help  it ;  it  was  him  or  me.  I 
took  him." 


A  SECOND   STAMPEDE  277 

"  I'd  a  liked  it  better  if  it  had  been  t'other 
way,"  muttered  Seaton,  savagely. 

"  Say,"  retorted  the  second  speaker,  drawing 
rein  directly  beneath  my  rock — I  now  saw  why 
the  horses'  feet  made  no  sound,  they  were  tied 
up  in  heavy  folds  of  cloth — "  if  you've  got  any 
more  o'  that  kind  o'  talk  keep  it  for  your  own 
use.  Whose  been  so  plumb  crazy  to  make 
trouble  for  them  tenderfoots  all  the  time  ?  I 
know  what's  the  matter  with  you  !  You're  mad 
'cause  they  saved  the  clip  in  spite  of  ye,  and 
'cause  Roy  Jones  give  up  tryin'  to  drive  'em  out 
after  what  they  had  done  for  his  wife.  They 
wouldn't  a  had  no  trouble  gettin'  herders, 
nuther,  if  you  hadn't  a  gone  'round  among  the 
Mexicans  and — " 

"  Shet  up  !  What's  the  use  o'  hollerin'  all 
that  stuff  so  as  it  can  be  heard  a  mile  ?  Keep 
these  sheep  rovin'  if  you  expect  to  git  any  pay 
for  it  out  o'  me !" 

They  rode  on  out  of  sight  and  sound,  still 
grumbling.  I  got  down  from  my  perch  and 
walked  slowly  home,  walked  slowly  into  the 


278  THE   GIRL  RANCHERS 

house  and  told  the  assembled  family — they  were 
all  up  by  this  time — what  had  happened  and 
who  had  engineered  the  work.  Not  much  was 
said.  Seaton's  treachery  was  too  great  for  mere 
words  to  express.  It  was  crushing ;  it  was  be- 
yond belief.  After  breakfast  I  put  up  the  sup- 
ply of  food  that  we  carried  daily  to  Felix,  and, 
tying  on  my  hat,  told  Johnny  to  bring  up  my 
horse.  I  had  not  been  able  to  touch  a  morsel 
myself,  and  Aunt  Matilda  remonstrated  when 
she  saw  Luck  at  the  door. 

"  I  don't  see  that  there's  any  use  in  your 
going  out  to-day,  Elsie,  if  the  sheep  are  gone. 
You  look  like  a  ghost,  and  you  have  eaten  no 
breakfast.  Wait  until  you  are  feeling  better." 

"  I  shall  not  feel  better  until  I  know  what  has 
become  of  Felix." 

"  Very  well ;  if  you  do  not  come  back  soon 
I'll  send  Florence  out  with  something  for  you. 
It  may  be  that  they  have  left  us  a  few  sheep." 

"  That  is  not  at  all  likely." 

It  did  not  take  long  for  fleet-footed  Luck  to 
reach  the  scene  of  our  daily  labors.  I  rode  up 


8  • 


•3  13 


A  SECOND   STAMPEDE  279 

to  the  corral  that  we  had  left  all  right  the  night 
before.  It  was  not  all  right  now.  The  gates 
had  been  beaten  down  and  thrown  aside  as 
something  that  there  would  be  no  more  use 
for.  There  were  four  or  five  dead  sheep ; 
they  had,  seemingly,  been  trampled  to  death 
in  the  terrified  rush  out  of  the  corral.  Felix 
was  nowhere  in  sight.  I  rode  up  and  down, 
calling  to  him,  until  a  little  tawny  mound, 
a  few  yards  from  the  entrance  to  the  corral, 
attracted  my  attention.  The  mound  had  not 
been  there  the  day  before.  I  rode  close  to  it. 
I  dismounted  and  fell  upon  my  knees  beside  it. 
Only  a  dog  !  Only  a  dog  !  But  the  dog  was 
Felix — dead. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A   SERIOUS    ACCIDENT 

NEARLY  every  one  has  noticed  how,  after  a 
long  lapse  of  time  in  which,  apparently,  nothing 
happens,  events  come  crowding  one  upon  an- 
other, seeming  to  culminate  with  startling 
rapidity,  so  much  so  that  one  is  swept  quite  out 
of  his  ordinary  routine  by  them  and  left  at  the 
mercy  of  circumstances  beyond  his  control. 

Such  was  the  stage  of  experience  that  we  now 
entered  on  with  the  second  stampeding  of  the 
flock.  This  stampede,  unlike  the  other,  was 
eminently  successful;  the  sheep  had  vanished 
beyond  our  ken.  I  did  not  ride  directly  home 
after  finding  poor  Felix's  body,  but  made  a 
detour  that  took  me  around  by  the  mine  where 
Rome  was  working.  I  found  him  engaged  in 
washing  out  a  pan  of  black  sand.  He  was  using 
a  kind  of  rough  rocker  that  he  had  built  him- 
self, and  the  sparkling  water  of  his  newly-made 
280 


A   SERIOUS   ACCIDENT  281 

ditch  was  doing  the  most  of  the  work.  He 
came  to  my  side  when  he  saw  me,  and  when  I 
told  him  my  story  his  slow  anger  kindled  as  I 
had  never  seen  it  before. 

"  You  go  home  and  say  nothing,"  he  told  me. 
"  I  am  going  to  get  on  the  trail  of  those  fellows ; 
I'm  going  to  bring  them  to  time,  too.  They're 
going  to  be  surprised  in  more  ways  than  one 
when  I  catch  up  with  them.  I  won't  try  to  get 
back  the  sheep ;  but  I  reckon  we  can  fix  it  so 
that  the  fellows  who  took  'em  '11  think  best  to 
pay  for  'em  before  they  get  through  with  it. 
Your  folks  '11  be  willing  to  part  with  'em  I 
s'pose?" 

"  I'm  sure  they  will,  Rome,"  I  answered.  I 
looked  at  the  water  of  the  San  Coulee  as  it 
flowed  past,  clear,  swift,  and  thought  of  the  lower 
valley  that  was,  through  its  ministry,  to  blossom 
as  the  rose.  Rome  shoved  back  the  wooden 
rocker  and  straightened  his  bent  shoulders. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  I'll  just  get  a  bite 
to  eat,  then  I'll  look  around  a  little  and  kind  o* 
see  what  we  can  do  for  Mr.  Seaton  and  his 


282  THE   GIRL    RANCHERS 

friends."  He  turned  expeditiously  toward  the 
cabin  beyond  the  ditch,  and  I,  glad  to  feel  that 
his  broad  shoulders  were  bearing  a  share  of  this 
new  burden,  turned  the  pony's  head  homeward. 
There  had  been  a  change  in  the  weather. 
The  air  was  still,  here  in  the  sheltered  valley, 
but  cutting,  and  the  cold  increased  as  evening 
drew  on.  Canon  and  pine-clad  slope  were 
already  dark  with  shadows,  and  up  on  Mount 
Kenneth  the  snow  streamers,  red  as  blood 
in  the  glow  of  sunset,  danced  like  a  wilder 
kind  of  Aurora  Borealis.  Throughout  the  day 
gray  clouds  had  been  hanging  around  the  mon- 
arch's brow,  without  descending  below  timber 
line,  and  now  as  the  rising  wind  scattered  them 
a  fresh  fall  of  snow  was  revealed.  The  wind 
was  making  the  most  of  it.  The  evening  star 
had  risen,  and  was  shining  above  the  serried 
peaks  of  the  Wind  River  range.  I  rode  onward 
slowly,  thinking  how  much  warmer  the  far 
mountains  looked  than  those  close  at  hand.  I 
was  aroused  from  my  star-gazing  and  brought 
back  to  the  cruel  realities  of  the  present 


A   SERIOUS   ACCIDENT  283 

abruptly  enough  when  I  arrived  in  sight  of  the 
house.  Although  we  were  usually  so  careful  of 
our  invalid,  on  this  chill  evening  of  all  others, 
doors  were  open,  lights  were  flashing,  as  though 
carried  in  haste  from  room  to  room. 

My  heart  sank  with  a  terrible  premonition  of 
what  had  happened.  The  heart-breaking  words 
of  an  old,  old  text  flashed  through  my  mind : 
"  Man  born  of  woman  is  of  few  days  and  full 
of  trouble ;  he  fleeth  as  a  shadow  and  con- 
tinueth  not — and  continueth  not — and  con- 
tinueth  not."  It  had  been  a  hard  day.  I 
bowed  my  face  over  Luck's  mane,  shuddering. 
My  heart  contracted  as  it  might  if  a  merciless 
hand  had  suddenly  closed  upon  it.  Florence 
had  seen  me ;  she  came  running  out,  crying, 
"  Oh,  Elsie !  Elsie !  Such  a  dreadful  thing  has 
happened !" 

My  lips  were  stiff,  but  I  managed  to  articu- 
late, faintly,  "  He  is  gone !" 

"  Oh,  no,  no !"  she  exclaimed,  with  comfort- 
ing literalness,  "  he  didn't  get  a  chance  to  go  at 
all ;  the  horse  threw  him,  and — " 


284  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

But,  in  the  revulsion  of  feeling  that  swept  over 
me  as  she  went  on — happily  not  realizing  my 
mistake — I  did  not,  for  the  moment,  compre- 
hend her  words.  It  was  but  for  an  instant; 
then  I  understood.  Far  more  alarmed  by  my 
long  absence  than  he  would  have  been  but  for 
the  events  of  the  preceding  night,  and  alone 
with  Vevie,  father  had  decided  that  he  must  go 
in  search  of  me.  Aunt  Matilda  and  Florence 
were  away,  having  taken  Now  Then  and  Billy 
for  a  look  around  the  valley  in  the  quite  useless 
expectation  that  they  might  come  upon  some 
knowledge  of  the  agency  through  which  our 
sheep  had  been  spirited  away.  It  was  late  in 
the  afternoon  that  father  told  Johnny  to  saddle 
Chris  for  him.  Now  Chris,  meek  as  he  was  to 
look  upon,  was,  as  all  who  had  the  pleasure  of 
his  intimate  acquaintance  knew,  extremely 
treacherous.  It  was  chiefly  owing  to  that  un- 
desirable trait  that  he  had  been  allowed  to  spend 
his  time  in  the  pasture,  growing  fat,  while  his 
mates  did  the  work. 

Johnny  seldom  expressed  an  opinion,  but,  as 


A   SERIOUS   ACCIDENT  285 

he  brought  the  horse  to  the  door,  in  obedience 
to  orders,  he  ventured  to  remonstrate  against 
father's  attempting  to  ride  him. 

"  I  'low  this  yeller  broncho's  goin'  to  buck,"  he 
said  earnestly.  "  He's  been  on  grass  a  long 
time.  Sometimes  good  horses  buck  when  they've 
rested  more  than  they  ought  to;  mean  horse 
like  this  one  will  buck,  sure." 

Father  had  not  forgotten  that  he  had  insisted 
upon  the  purchase  of  the  gentle-mannered,  yel- 
low broncho  against  the  advice  of  Mr.  Seaton. 
It  had  already  been  demonstrated  that  Mr. 
Beaton's  judgment  in  regard  to  horses  was  good, 
but  Johnny's  words  touched  his  pride. 

"  The  horse  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Bring 
him  up  to  the  block  and  I'll  mount.  Vevie," 
he  continued,  walking  toward  the  great 
smoothly-sawed  section  of  a  log  that,  placed  on 
end,  served  the  purpose  of  a  horse  block,  "  tell 
your  aunt  that  I  have  gone  out  toward  the  gate- 
way to  look  for  Elsie."  The  only  horse  that 
father  had  bestrode  since  that  unlucky  day's  ex- 
perience as  a  sheep  herder,  was  Luck,  a  horse 


286  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

of  principle,  who  trod  as  carefully  with  father 
on  his  back  as  he  might  have  done  with  a  basket 
of  eggs.  Vevie  had  seen  him  upon  Luck,  and, 
in  her  eyes  all  horses  were  equally  trustworthy. 

"  Don't  go  far,  papa !"  she  called  after  him  as 
he  turned  Chris's  head  toward  the  highway. 

"  I  won't,  dear,"  he  replied,  and — he  did 
not. 

Aunt  Matilda  and  Florence,  riding  toward 
the  house,  quickened  their  horses'  speed  into  a 
mad  gallop  as  the  sound  of  a  child's  voice,  rend- 
ing the  air  with  wild  shrieks,  came  to  their  ears. 

Father  was  discovered  lying  motionless,  face 
downward,  in  the  highway.  Vevie  was  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  her  arms  thrown  over  him, 
and  screaming  wildly,  while  poor,  lame  Johnny, 
his  feeble  wits  quite  scared  out  of  him,  stood 
beside  them  wringing  his  hands  and  crying  but 
making  no  attempt  to  render  aid.  And  yellow 
Chris,  with  the  saddle  turned  under  him,  stood 
at  a  little  distance,  composedly  cropping  the 
pansy-bed  in  the  front  yard. 

They  managed,  among  them,  to  carry  father 


A   SERIOUS    ACCIDENT  287 

into  the  house,  and  to  quiet  Vevie,  whose  case 
had  seemed  for  the  time  being  nearly  as  critical 
as  his.  But  all  their  efforts  to  restore  him  to 
consciousness  had  proved  fruitless. 

"  We  must  have  a  doctor,  Elsie.  You  must 
find  Rome  and  get  him  to  go  to  the  Agency  for 
the  doctor,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Matilda,  as  I  ran 
into  the  house.  I  knew  that  it  would  be  useless 
to  go  after  Rome.  I  had  already  dispatched 
him  upon  another  errand,  in  which  direction  I 
could  not  tell.  Going  to  father's  bedside  I 
looked  at  him  steadily — "  he  fleeth  as  a  shadow 
— as  a  shadow — and  continueth  not."  The 
words  tortured  me.  I  pushed  them  aside  by  an 
effort  of  will  so  great  that  I  seemed  to  have  sud- 
denly and  breathlessly  performed  some  exhaust- 
ing physical  labor,  but  they  were  gone  and  I 
could  think.  I  would  not  let  myself  be  fright- 
ened, though  the  face  that  I  looked  down  upon 
was  deadly  white  and  still,  and  the  closed  eyes 
gave  no  gleam  of  life,  for  I  knew  that  I  must 
make  the  night  ride  to  the  Agency.  There  was 
no  doctor  nearer,  no  one  but  me  to  go.  I  had 


288  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

been  in  the  saddle  all  day  and  was,  without 
knowing  it,  faint  with  hunger  and  fatigue.  It 
would  have  been  as  reasonable  to  expect  lame 
Johnny  to  brave  the  perils  of  the  lonely  way  as 
to  expect  it  of  Florence ;  besides  no  other  mem- 
ber of  the  household  knew  the  trail  so  well. 
There  was  no  time  to  hunt  for  any  other  mes- 
senger. Father's  life,  perhaps,  depended  upon 
the  passing  moments.  Aunt  had  ascertained 
that  his  heart  was  beating  faintly,  I  must  go 
before  those  feeble  heart-beats  ceased  altogether. 
"  Johnny,  give  Luck  some  oats ;  be  quick,"  I 
said.  "  Don't  take  off  the  saddle.  I  am  going  to 
the  Agency  for  the  doctor." 

"  You !"  cried  Aunt  Matilda.  "  Oh,  no,  Elsie ! 
You  must  not ;  you  have  been  out  all  day — " 

"  I  am  going,  aunt,  there  is  no  one  else ;  I 
can  get  the  doctor  here  before  morning — by 
going  over  the  mountain." 

"  Over  the  mountain !  Elsie,  you  shall  not 
attempt  that ;  it  has  been  snowing  up  there,  the 
trail  will  be  lost ;  you  shall  not  go." 

"  I  ain  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  disobey  you, 


A   SERIOUS    ACCIDENT  289 

aunt.  But  go  I  will ;  please  don't  try  to  stop 
me.  I  can  do  it." 

Florence  was  chafing  father's  nerveless  hands ; 
Aunt  Matilda  had  been  trying  to  force  some 
stimulant  between  his  closed  teeth.  I  remem- 
ber how  they  both  ceased  their  ministrations  to 
turn  and  stare  at  me  as  I  stood  by  the  table  in 
the  lamplight. 

"  You  must  have  a  cup  of  coffee,"  aunt  said. 
Fortunately  the  half-filled  coffee  pot  was  on  the 
stove.  She  poured  out  a  cup  for  me  and  hastily 
cut  a  slice  of  bread  and  meat.  "  Eat,"  she  said, 
thrusting  them  into  my  hands.  "You  must, 
Elsie;  it  is  for  strength."  I  ate  and  drank 
hastily,  then,  putting  on  a  heavy  coat  of  father's 
over  my  usual  riding  dress,  and  drawing  on  a 
pair  of  long  fur  gloves  I  went  out  to  where 
Johnny  was  waiting  with  Luck.  Florence, 
bending  again  over  father,  did  not  heed  my 
going,  but  Aunt  Matilda  and  Vevie  followed 
me  to  the  horse  block.  "  God  bless  you  for  a 
brave  girl,  Elsie,"  aunt  whispered,  kissing  me, 
and  Vevie,  throwing  her  arms  around  my  neck, 
19 


290  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

sobbed.  "  There  are  white  angels  in  the  snow 
up  on  Mount  Kenneth  ;  I  have  seen  them  play- 
ing at  sunset.  If  you  get  lost,  ask  them  to  tell 
you  the  way." 

"  I  am  sure  the  white  angels  of  Kenneth  will 
know  one  way,  darling,"  I  could  not  help  say- 
ing, with  a  sickening  sense  of  the  loneliness 
and  cold  of  those  far-off  heights,  that,  as  I 
looked  upward  in  the  moonlight,  seemed  to 
pierce  the  heavens.  "  But  I  know  the  trail ;  I 
shall  not  get  lost;  good-bye,  and  keep  good 
courage." 

I  shook  the  bridle  reins  and  Luck  struck  into 
a  swift  lope  that  soon  took  us  to  the  point  where 
we  turned  from  the  highway  into  Mount  Ken- 
neth trail.  My  eyes  were  keen  or  I  could  not 
have  distinguished  the  blind  pathway,  hidden, 
as  it  was,  among  the  shadows  of  the  rocks  and 
trees.  Fortunately,  the  full  moon,  early  to- 
night, had  risen,  and  its  mellow  light  showed 
the  way  clearly  enough  if  one  only  kept  a 
sharp  lookout.  One  who  had  not  been  over 
the  trail  could  scarcely  have  remembered  its 


A   SERIOUS    ACCIDENT  291 

landmarks.  Now  a  blasted  tree,  weird  and 
ghostly  in  the  strange  light,  a  jutting  rock,  an 
isolated  patch  of  jack-oaks,  a  shelf  of  crumbling 
shale,  or  a  bit  of  level  sward. 

Up,  up,  still  upward  we  toiled,  brave  Luck 
settling  down  to  his  task  with  an  unflinching 
courage  and  perseverance,  but  speed  was  now 
out  of  the  question.  He  could  only  climb.  An 
hour  passed  ;  two  hours.  The  scattering  belts 
of  evergreens,  the  frequent  park-like  openings, 
where  herds  of  half-wild  cattle  cropped  the 
insufficient  herbage,  were  left  behind.  The 
trail,  always  leading  steadily  upward  into  an 
atmosphere  that  grew  as  steadily  colder — entered 
a  dark  forest  of  cedars,  and  it  was  then  that  I 
remembered  something  that  I  once  heard  Rome 
say  of  the  cedar  forests  of  Mount  Kenneth. 

I  drew  rein,  and,  leaning  forward  on  Luck's 
neck,  strained  eyes  and  ears,  striving  to  pierce 
the  darkness,  to  catch  some  sound  that  should 
tell  what  was  before  us  on  the  route  that  we 
must  traverse.  Luck,  eager  to  have  done  with 
the  night's  work,  pawed  impatiently.  How 


292  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

loudly  his  iron-shod  hoof  clattered  upon  the 
rock.  I  shivered  with  something  that  was  not 
cold. 

"  Be  quiet !  Luck.  Be  quiet !"  I  whispered 
imploringly  in  the  alert  ear  bent  back  to  catch 
the  sound  of  my  voice.  "  Luck,"  I  whispered, 
scarcely  knowing  what  I  said  or  did,  "  I  am 
afraid  !  I  am  afraid !" 

The  pony  tossed  his  head,  tugging  at  the  bit. 
Somehow,  the  resolute  action  shamed  me  into 
fresh  courage.  I  thought  of  father  lying  so 
still  down  there  in  the  valley,  and  shook  the 
bridle  reins  again.  "  Go  on,  Luck ;  Vevie's 
angels  are  above  us."  I  said  it  aloud,  as,  leav- 
ing the  clear  moonlight,  we  were  instantly 
swallowed  up  in  the  black  shadow  of  the  cedar 
forest. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AMONG   THE   SNOW   WRAITHS 

IT  was  only  by  a  superhuman  effort  of  self- 
control  that  I  refrained  from  urging  fleet-footed 
Luck  at  speed  through  the  unknown  terrors 
of  the  cedar  forest.  Knowing  that  his  strength 
must  be  reserved,  as  far  as  possible,  for  the 
last,  fierce,  breathless  scramble  above  timber 
line,  which  would  bring  us  to  the  wide,  white 
desolation  of  the  snow-fields,  I  held  him  and 
tried  to  forget  what  Rome  had  said,  at  a  time 
when  the  saying  was  of  so  little  moment.  '  He 
had  told  us  that  if  ever  he  particularly  wanted 
to  get  a  bear  he  should  go  up  into  the  cedar 
forests  on  Mount  Kenneth.  Bears,  he  said, 
were  extravagantly  fond  of  the  small  round 
cedar  berries  that  covered  the  ground  under 
the  cedar  trees  so  thickly  in  the  fall  of  the 
year.  "  Night  is  their  favorite  time  for  feed- 
ing ;  'specially  moonlight  nights,"  he  had  said. 

293 


294  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

"  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  bet  that  I  could  get  a 
bear  'most  any  time  that  I  took  a  notion  to  lay 
in  wait  for  him,  up  among  the  rocks  there." 
An  accident  among  those  snow-fields  that 
we  were  steadily  nearing,  or  to  be  overcome 
with  cold  or  fatigue,  meant  certain  death,  so  I 
held  Luck  in  and  tried  to  think  of  other  things 
than  bears.  I  thought  of  father  lying  so  still 
on  the  bed  down  there  thousands  of  feet  below ; 
of  the  sheep,  wandering  among  these  hills  at 
the  mercy  of  those  brutish  men,  or  of  wild  and 
roving  animals ;  of  Rome  and  his  noble  help- 
fulness ;  of  Donald  Arleigh  and  the  shock  that 
it  must  have  been  to  him  to  find  us  gone — 
supposing,  always,  that  he  still  cared  for  us  a 
little — but  all  was  of  no  use.  Rome's  careless 
words  came  as  a  refrain  to  which  my  throb- 
bing pulses  and  the  pony's  regular  hoof-beats 
kept  measure.  Sick  with  terror,  I  leaned  for- 
ward on  Luck's  neck,  prepared,  if  I  heard  the 
slightest  sound,  to  give  him  the  word  to  go. 
And  yet — what  madness  to  urge  a  horse  to 
speed  on  such  a  trail  as  this ! 


AMONG   THE  SNOW   WRAITHS  295 

Half  delirious  as  I  was  with  the  accumulat- 
ing terrors  of  the  lonely  way,  I  yet  realized 
that  I  should  not  make  such  a  demand  upon 
the  willing  servant  who  carried  me  so  bravely, 
as  long  as  I  could  keep  myself  from  it.  The 
trail  through  the  cedars  was  short.  Bending 
low  over  the  saddle  and  straining  my  eyes  to 
pierce  the  gloom,  I  caught  the  gleam  of  moon- 
light on  the  trail  ahead.  At  the  same  time 
there  came  to  my  ears  the  soft  pit-a-pat,  pit-a- 
pat  of  some  creature  who  was  following  along 
through  the  dark  trail  behind  me ;  some  crea- 
ture with  padded  feet,  not  hoofs.  In  the  ex- 
tremity of  my  terror,  instead  of  urging  Luck  to 
greater  speed,  as  had  been  my  previous  impulse, 
I  drew  rein,  and,  wheeling  sharply  around, 
facing  the  back  trail,  waited.  I  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt  but  that  a  bear  was  after  me. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  simply  sat  and  awaited  his 
approach  instead  of  flying,  but  that  was  what 
I  did.  It  was  then  that  a  gleam  of  common 
sense  came  mercifully  through  the  benumbing 
fog  of  fear  that  paralyzed  my  faculties. 


296  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

I  observed  that  Luck  showed  no  uneasiness 
whatever ;  on  the  contrary,  his  alertly-pointed 
ears  and  outstretched  muzzle  seemed  to  evince 
that  he  scented  a  friend. 

I  had  just  comprehended  this  when  a  long, 
slender,  white  body  emerged  from  the  shadow 
of  the  cedars,  and,  pausing  in  front  of  my 
horse,  looked  up  at  me  expectantly. 

"Calif!  O  Calif!  Is  it  you?  Is  it  you, 
dear  Calif?"  the  relief  was  so  great  that  I 
covered  my  face  with  my  hands  and  sobbed 
aloud  from  sheer  nervous  re-action.  Luck  and 
Calif  were  the  best  of  friends,  as  was  natural 
between  two  such  intelligent  animals,  and  now, 
when  Calif,  distressed  at  my  outburst,  reared 
up  beside  him  and  put  both  forepaws  in  my 
lap,  rubbing  his  slender  nose  sympathetically 
against  my  shoulder,  Luck  only  turned  his 
head,  watching  proceedings.  "I  don't  know 
how  you  ever  made  up  your  mind  to  leave 
Vevie,  Calif,"  I  said,  checking  my  sobs  at  last 
and  patting  his  head  thankfully,  "  but  I'm 
glad  you've  come." 


AMONG   THE   SNOW   WRAITHS  297 

I  found  out  afterward,  on  inquiry,  that 
Vevie,  and  not  Calif,  was  entitled  to  the  credit 
of  his  brave  following ;  she  told  me  about  it, 
and  these  are  her  words : 

"  When  I  went  into  the  house,"  said  Vevie, 
"  and  cried  because  papa  was  hurt  and  it  was 
night,  and  you  were  going  over  the  mountain, 
Calif  came  and  looked  at  me,  so  sorry.  I 
thought  how  Felix  was  dead,  and  how  you  loved 
him,  and  how  he  would  have  gone  with  you, 
maybe,  if  he  had  been  alive,  and  how  nothing 
could  have  hurted  you  then,  and  I  told  Calif  all 
about  it.  I  told  him  to  follow  you.  He  didn't 
seem  to  want  to  go  at  first.  I  don't  think  it 
was  because  he  wasn't  willing,  though  the  rocks 
do  cut  his  feet.  Then  I  took  him  to  the  barn 
and  showed  him  that  Luck  was  gone,  and  I 
asked  him  to  smell  of  your  old  riding  glove,  and 
of  Luck's  track,  and  I  said,  '  Go  find  them, 
Calif,  find  them  !'  and  he  started  right  off." 

I  am  sure  that  no  one  else  could  have  made 
the  greyhound  understand  what  was  wanted, 
but,  indeed,  it  seemed  at  times  as  if  he  compre- 


298  THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

liended  her  every  word.  An  hour  afterward  I 
was  sorry  that  he  had  come,  notwithstanding 
the  comfort  his  presence  had  brought  me.  But 
it  was  only  in  a  dazed  way,  for  the  strain  upon 
my  own  endurance  left  little  ability  to  feel 
for  another's  distress.  We  were  climbing  the 
heights  now,  and  the  air  was  piercingly  cold. 
Luck  knew  the  trail  so  much  better  than  I  that 
I  left  the  matter  of  finding  it  entirely  to  him. 
We  passed  the  last  cluster  of  scattering  firs, 
dwarfed  and  tortured  into  all  sorts  of  grotesque 
shapes  by  the  never-ending  struggle  with  storm 
and  cold.  Sliding  and  stumbling,  we  scrambled 
up  the  loose  shale  rocks  above  timber  line  and 
entered  upon  the  most  perilous  stage  of  the 
night's  adventurous  trip.  I  was  by  this  time  so 
numb  with  cold  and  fatigue  that  I  frequently 
caught  myself  swaying  in  the  saddle,  but  I 
rallied  my  sinking  energies  as  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  something  whiter  than  moonlight 
beneath  Luck's  feet.  We  were  entering  upon 
the  snow  fields,  white,  wide,  still,  swung  mid- 
way between  the  far-off  earth  beneath  and  the 


AMONG   THE   SNOW    WRAITHS  299 

steel-like  glitter  of  the  far-off  stars  above.  It 
was  a  region  of  chaos,  of  death,  where  a  silence 
that  was  never  broken,  a  cold  that  never  re- 
laxed, reigned  supreme.  The  icy  blast  seemed, 
despite  the  thick,  fur-lined  gloves,  to  flay  the 
skin  from  my  stiffening  fingers  as  Luck  went 
steadily  on,  and  I  caught  the  full  force  of  its 
merciless  sweep.  Calif,  blinded  by  its  savage 
fury,  sought  shelter  beside  the  horse,  growling 
and  whimpering,  but  with  no  thought  of  desertion 
in  his  loyal  heart.  I  tried  to  speak  a  reassuring 
word  to  him,  but  the  wind,  the  night  wind  that 
always  blows  on  Kenneth,  and  whose  fantastic 
orgies  I  had  so  often  watched  with  interest  from 
the  warm  shelter  of  the  valley,  tore  the  words 
from  my  lips  and  beat  in  my  face  until,  gasping 
and  suffocated,  I  gave  up  all  attempts  to  speak. 
The  trail  winds  for  three  miles  among  the  rocks 
and  precipices  that  the  snow  treacherously  con- 
ceals without  robbing  of  their  danger.  Then 
it  drops  doAvn  to  timber  line  again,  and  so  on 
through  a  dense  pine  forest  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  Red  Cliff  Reservation.  But,  after  a  little, 


300  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

the  way  did  not  seem  long  to  me,  or  lonely.  I 
heard,  vaguely,  as  in  a  dream,  a  low  voice  crying. 
Was  it  Florence,  bending  over  father  ?  No ;  it 
was  Felix — Felix,  as  he  had  cried  that  day  after 
his  search  in  the  mountains  for  the  stampeded 
sheep,  when  I  had  pulled  the  cactus  thorns 
from  his  torn  and  bleeding  feet  and  bound  them 
up  in  soft  cloths.  "  Felix,  Felix !"  I  gasped 
faintly  ;  "  where  are  the  sheep  ?"  The  sound 
of  my  own  voice  steadied  my  reeling  senses.  I 
remembered  that  Felix  was  dead.  It  was  Calif 
who  was  whimpering  piteously  at  my  side,  but, 
in  a  moment,  I  no  longer  heard  him,  for  before 
me,  tall  and  white  and  whirling  lightly  over 
the  snow,  all  about  us  in  the  moonlight,  were 
the  white  angels  of  Mount  Kenneth. 

They  waved  their  arms,  beckoning  me,  they 
beat  the  air  with  wide,  noiseless  wings ;  their 
invisible  buoyant  feet  spurned  the  snow  beneath 
with  a  soft  hissing  sound.  "  They  are  calling 
us  to  follow  them,  Luck,"  I  muttered.  "  They 
are  saying,  Come !"  If  I  tried,  as  I  think  I  did, 
to  force  Luck  from  the  trail  to  engage  in  a  stern 


AMONG   THE   SNOW    WRAITHS  301 

chase  after  the  snow  wraiths  of  Kenneth,  he  was 
too  wise  to  obey  me,  but  what  he  did,  or  I,  or 
Calif,  or  when  we  left  the  white  waste  of  death 
and  dropped  down  into,  the  balsamic  warmth  of 
the  pine  forest,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing. 
My  last  confused,  distorted  recollections  are  of 
the  driving  snow  wraiths,  and  the  dim  anguish 
of  the  thought  that  we  must  follow  where  they 
led.  How  the  ride  terminated  was  told  me 
afterward,  and  I  will  tell  it  now. 

It  was  after  twelve  o'clock  that  night  that  my 
friend,  Running  Wolf,  having  finished  his  pipe, 
laid  it  aside  with  a  prodigious  yawn,  and  started 
to  crawl  into  the  pile  of  blankets  lying  on  the 
floor,  blankets  being  the  Indian  excuse  for  a 
bed.  Just  then  he  heard  the  sound  made  by 
slow,  cautious  footsteps  as  they  stole  past  his 
dwelling.  He  stood  still,  with  bent  head,  listen- 
ing. The  slow  footsteps  that  had  lagged  a  little 
before  his  tepee,  went  on  steadily.  Running 
Wolf  raised  the  flap  of  his  tepee  and  peeped  out. 
He  was  an  Indian  and  not  given  to  alarm,  but 
his  description  of  what  he  saw  was : 


302  THE   GIRL   RANCHEES 

"  I  have  a  piece  of  ice  lay  all  'long  way  down 
my  back ;  my  hair  grow  stiff  and  stand  up. 
Right  before,  going  slow,  slow,  with  his  head 
hung  down  so  that  his  nose  was  touchin'  the 
ground,  was  my  totem !  The  great  white  wolf 
that  goes  through  the  village  of  th  Indians 
when  any  of  the  people  are  to  die.  I  had  no 
fear.  No.  But  the  Indians  are  no  more  fit  to 
die.  They  are  sluggish  cowards  who  eat  the 
food  the  white  man  throws  them,  same  like  his 
dog  eats.  And  the  squaws  ?  When  is  a  squaw 
ever  fit  for  death  ?  Then  I  looked  some  more, 
hoping  the  wolf  would  go  on,  for  whoever  the 
white  Manitou  of  the  wolf  looks  upon,  dies,  and 
it  was  not  a  wolf  at  all,  but  the  great  white  dog 
of  the  little  mist  squaw  of  the  San  Coulee.  And 
he  was  following  a  pony  that  had  something 
lying  across  his  back,  and  I  went  out." 

It  seems  I  had  only  consciousness  enough  left 
to  cling  to  the  saddle  upon  which  I  was  lying, 
rather  than  sitting,  when  Running  Wolf  came 
to  my  aid.  How  slowly,  with  what  infinite  care 
Luck  must  have  made  the  descent  of  the  moun- 


AMONG   THE   SNOW    WRAITHS  303 

tain,  not  to  have  displaced  the  helpless  rider 
swaying  upon  his  back !  He  remembered  the 
Agency  where  we  had  been  before,  and,  after  a 
moment's  indecision  at  the  tepee  of  Running 
Wolf,  had  started  to  take  me  to  the  house  where 
he  and  I  had  been  during  my  former  visit. 

It  was  hours  afterward,  and  full  daylight, 
when  I  recovered  consciousness.  There  was  an 
odor  of  drugs  in  the  air,  a  murmur  of  low  voices 
near  me  and  a  sense  of  warmth,  of  rescue.  But 
where  was  Luck,  and  Calif,  and  the  doctor  ?  I 
stirred,  and  every  bone  and  muscle  in  my  body 
promptly  responded  by  adding  the  force  of 
their  strength  to  the  one  great  ache  that  seemed 
to  enwrap  my  bruised  and  tortured  body  like  an 
all-enveloping  garment.  I  groaned  and  opened 
my  eyes.  A  delicate  white  head  was  thrust 
eagerly  forward  and  laid  upon  my  breast,  and 
Calif's  yellow  eyes  gazed  solemnly  into  mine. 

"What  has  happened,  Calif?"  I  whispered, 
faintly.  Calif  did  not  answer,  nor  object  to 
being  gently  pushed  aside,  as  some  one  bent 
over  me. 


304  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

A  familiar  voice  said  quietly :  "  You  are 
iri  the  house  of  the  agent  of  the  Red  Cliff 
Reservation,  lying  on  a  lounge  in  the  front 
room  where  the  sun  can  look  at  you." 

"Where  is  Luck?" 

"  Luck,"  the  voice  repeated  musingly,  and 
added,  "  What  more  natural,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, than  that  she  should  be  inquiring 
for  the  horse  that  saved  her  life?  We'll 
chance  it  that  Luck  is  the  horse."  In  a  louder 
tone  the  speaker  continued,  "  Luck  is  in  the 
barn." 

"  I  hope  they  gave  him  oats,"  I  murmured ; 
"  he  doesn't  like  corn." 

"  He  shall  have  oats,  then,  the  hero,  he 
should  have  them  if  every  grain  were  balanced 
against  a  grain  of  gold." 

I  was  still  confused,  and  it  did  not  lessen  my 
confusion  to  look  up,  as  I  did,  into  the  smiling, 
tender  face  bending  over  me ;  the  face  of  one 
who  was,  at  last  accounts,  so  many  hundred 
miles  away. 

"There  were  angels,"  I  stammered,  foolishly, 


AMONG   THE   SNOW    WKAITHS  305 

"  tliey  beckoned  to  me — were — you — you  with 
them — or — "  with  a  sudden,  awakening  attempt 
to  again  grasp  my  lapsing  senses — "  was  it  the 
snow  wreath  ?" 

"  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  snow  wreaths, 
Elsie,  dear,  for  I  have  not  been  in  the  company 
of  any  angels — until  now." 

All  at  once  I  remembered  the  ride  and  its 
purpose.  I  sat  up,  wildly  throwing  aside  the 
coverings  that  had  been  put  over  me. 

"  Oh,  Donald,  Donald !  I  came  for  the  doctor, 
father  is  hurt ;  he  may  be  killed  !" 

Donald  laid  me  gently  back  upon  the  pillows. 
"  He's  all  right,  Elsie.  I  came  from  there  not 
long  ago ;  I  came  by  way  of  the  plains  instead 
of  over  the  mountain.  You  had  been  here, 
lying  unconscious  for  three  hours  when  I  got 
here.  Your  father  was  not  hurt;  he  was 
stunned  by  the  fall ;  when  he  came  to — as  he 
did  a  few  minutes  after  you  left — he  was  as  well 
as  ever.  But  he  was  wild  when  he  heard  what 
you  had  done.  He  said  that  you  were  always 
afraid  when  alone  out-of-doors  after  nightfall, 
20 


306  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

and  he  seemed  to  think  that  night  up  on  those 
snow  fields  wouldn't  be  a  very  comfortable 
place — She's  awake  now,  Doctor,"  he  broke  off 
suddenly,  as  a  middle-aged,  military  looking 
gentleman  stepped  into  the  room  and  approached 
the  lounge. 

The  doctor  felt  my  pulse,  lifted  one  of  my 
eyelids,  and  peered  into  the  eye  inquiringly, 
then  nodded  cheerfully. 

"She  will  be  all  right  as  soon  as  she  gets 
well  rested.  But  it's  been  something  of  a  shock. 
It  will  take  some  time  for  her  nerves  to  recover 
their  tone." 

"What  happened  to  me,  Doctor?" 

The  doctor  smiled  quizzically.  "  As  nearly 
as  I  can  make  out  you  have  been  very  fortunate. 
Your  imagination  and  the  stress  you  were  under, 
added  to  the  weirdness  of  your  lonely  ride,  has 
played  some  odd  pranks  with  you.  But,"  lie  has- 
tened to  add  as  I  felt  a  wave  of  color  surging 
over  my  face,  "  you  have  no  cause  to  blush  for 
it.  There  are  few  men,  let  me  tell  you,  who 
would  take  that  ride  at  night,  and  that  you  are 


AMONG   THE  SNOW  WRAITHS  307 

alive  to-day  you  may  thank  your  faithful  little 
pony  for  and  no  one  else.  If  he  had  not  kept  the 
trail — well,  all  I  have  to  say  is,  let  well  enough 
alone ;  don't  try  it  again." 

The  agent's  wife  herself  brought  me  a  de- 
licious breakfast  on  a  tray  and  sat  beside  me, 
chatting  of  small,  unexciting  matters  while  I 
ate.  Father  was  not  hurt,  and  over  there  by 
the  window  was  Donald  Arleigh,  Donald  who 
had  come  back,  and  whose  coming  had  flooded 
the  world  with  sunshine.  He  was  not  ungrate- 
ful ;  he  could  explain  all.  I  looked  at  him  with 
an  exultant  smile,  I  was  so  glad,  so  glad. 
Donald  met  my  look  and  smiled  too. 

"  Poor  Calif  did  not  come  off  scot  free,"  he 
remarked  as  I  drank  the  last  drop  of  my  coffee 
and  secretly  longed  for  more;  "his  paws  are 
badly  cut,  but  he  concluded  to  let  me  dress 
them." 

A  memory  of  the  sheep-fold,  of  Felix  and  a 
similar  service  that  I  had  once  performed  for 
him,  came  over  me  in  a  wave  of  pain. 

"  I  washed  Felix's  feet  and  bound  them  up 


THE    GIRL    RANCHERS 

the  day  that  he  brought  back  the  sheep,"  I  said, 
inconsequently.  "  But  the  sheep  are  lost  and 
Felix  is  dead."  It  seemed  strange,  at  the 
moment,  that  Felix  could  not  know  what  loy- 
alty, what  devotion  went  out  of  my  life  when 
he  died. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MR.   SEATON    IS   CORNERED 

DONALD  had  hired  Mr.  Davis'  son,  Don,  to 
bring  him  to  the  Agency,  and  Don,  with  his 
father's  horses  and  carriage,  was  still  waiting. 

I  rallied  from  my  stupor  so  quickly,  and 
was  so  eager  to  return,  that  Donald  decided  to 
take  me  back  with  him,  especially  as  the  doctor 
declared  that  the  journey  would  do  me  less 
harm  than  the  impatient  waiting.  We  took 
Calif  into  the  carriage  with  us  and  Don  rode 
Luck. 

It  was  during  that  long,  delicious,  restful 
homeward  ride  that  Donald  told  why  he  left  us 
so  strangely,  and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have 
felt  the  pangs  of  remorseful  shame  because  of 
my  unworthy  suspicions  of  him. 

"  I  know,"  Donald  said,  "  that  Uncle  Hugh  " 
— there  was  no  relationship  between  them,  but 
he  always  called  father  "  Uncle "  and  Aunt 

309 


310  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Matilda  "  Aunt," — "  would  never  consent  to  my 
taking  iny  money  to  push  his  inventions.  He 
would  refuse  to  let  me  have  the  formula  and 
the  descriptive  literature  if  he  knew  that  I  in- 
tended to  embark  in  any  such  enterprise.  I 
had  absolute  faith  in  the  utility  of  his  inven- 
tions— more  especially  the  incombustible  wood 
formula — but  he  had  no  money  to  spare  in  in- 
troducing it  to  the  notice  of  the  men  whom  he 
must  reach  and  influence,  the  manufacturers. 
And,  indeed,  he  is  not  at  all  the  sort  of  man  to 
go  about  espousing  his  own  cause.  I'm  differ- 
ent, less  sensitive,  more  practical.  I  knew  that 
as  long  as  Uncle  Hugh  furnished  the  brains  I 
could  carry  out  the  other  part  all  right." 

"  Donald !" 

"It's  true,  Elsie.  Why,  your  father  is  a 
wonderful  man ;  it's  no  disparagement  to  give 
him  the  credit  of  having  more  brains  than  I. 
He  has  more  brains  than  a  dozen  ordinary  men 
put  together.  I  had  to  have  money.  I  took 
mine,  and  also  took  his  consent  to  my  using  his 
formulas  for  granted.  If  I  failed,  no  one  but 


MR.   SEATON   IS   CORNERED  811 

I  would  be  the  loser.  If  I  won  it  would  be 
something  worth  while  for  us  all.  I  haven't 
failed,  Elsie."  I  leaned  back  blissfully  in  the 
carriage,  watching  the  fleecy  white  of  the  clouds 
beyond  the  far  northern  Buttes.  They  looked 
not  unlike  droves  of  sheep,  and  they  were  van- 
ishing, vanishing.  I  had  no  wish  to  call  them 
back. 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  my  going  into  all 
the  details,"  Donald  went  on.  "  More  time  was 
required  than  I  had  anticipated.  I  had  resolved 
not  to  communicate  with  any  of  you  until  I 
could  say  definitely  whether  I  had  won  or  lost. 
I  had  no  idea  then  that  Uncle  Hugh's  health 
was  in  so  precarious  a  state." 

"  He  grieved  so  for  you,  Donald,"  I  could 
not  help  telling  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  did,  Elsie.  I  was  doing  evil 
that  good  might  follow,  and  that  is  always  a 
dangerous  experiment.  I  ought  to  have  writ- 
ten. I  remember,  Elsie,  that  you  never  cared 
to  know  how  a  thing  was  done ;  it  was  only  the 
result  that  interested  you,  so  I  will  spare  you 


312  THE   GIRL  RANCHERS 

the  technicalities,  but  you  will  not  need  to  be  a 
sheep  herder  any  longer,  Elsie." 

"  Sheep  herding  has  not  hurt  me,  Donald,"  I 
said,  truthfully.  "  It  has  been  a  strange,  wild 
experience.  I  am  glad  if  it's  over  with,  but  I 
am  not  sorry  to  have  had  it." 

"I  gathered  from  what  young  Davis  told  me 
as  we  were  coming  over  that  it's  been  rather  a 
romantic  episode  all  through,  and  now  that  the 
unfortunate  sheep  have  been  burglarized — " 

"  That's  true,  if  you  call  it  burglary.  They 
have  been  stolen." 

"  Davis  said  that  your  friend,  Beaumont,  had 
organized  a  posse — that  was  the  impressive  way 
in  which  he  worded  it — and  gone  in  pursuit  of 
the  thieves." 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  posse,  I'm  sure.  I 
hope  he  got  some  one  to  help  him,  but  he  would 
have  gone  alone  if  he  could  not." 

"  There  may  be  some  word  from  him  awaiting 
us  by  the  time  we  get  home." 

There  was  none,  however.  Father,  whom  I 
had  left  lying  white  and  still  upon  his  bed  the 


MK.   SEATON   IS   CORNERED  313 

night  before,  came  to  the  carriage  to  help  me 
out.  His  lips  trembled  as  he  looked  at  me. 

"  Elsie,  what  am  I  to  do  with  a  daughter  who 
will  do  such  reckless  things  ?"  he  asked  tremu- 
lously. "  Ought  I  to  scold,  or  bless  you  ?" 

"  Neither,  I  guess,  papa,"  I  whispered,  laying 
my  head  on  his  shoulder  and  giving  way  to 
weak  tears  for  a  moment.  "  But  you  may  bless 
Luck." 

He  took  off  his  hat.  "  God  bless  and  keep 
my  brave  little  Elsie,"  he  said  reverently. 

Don  Davis  rode  up  with  Luck  a  few  minutes 
after  our  arrival.  He  had  followed  along  the 
highway  instead  of  obliging  the  pony  to  again 
make  the  trip  over  the  mountain.  Father, 
Donald,  and  Florence  all  went  out  to  the  barn 
with  Johnny  to  see  the  noble  fellow  cared  for, 
but  I  remained  lying  on  the  lounge  where  I  had 
dropped  wearily  on  entering  the  house.  Aunt 
Matilda,  who  reproached  herself  quite  cause- 
lessly for  allowing  me  to  go — she  could  not 
have  prevented  it — sat  down  by  my  side  and 
told  how  Donald  had  come,  just  in  the  nick  of 


314  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

time.  Father  had  recovered  consciousness,  and, 
none  the  worse  for  the  rough  usage  he  had  had, 
was  nearly  beside  himself  with  grief  at  the 
thing  I  had  undertaken  to  do  on  his  account. 

"  He  was  declaring  that  he  would  take  Now 
Then,  who,  you  know,  is  safe  to  ride,  and  go 
after  you,  when  Donald  came  to  the  door. 
When  he  heard  the  story  he  made  Hugh  sit 
down  and  keep  still.  'I  will  go  and  bring 
Elsie  back/  he  said.  And  Hugh  has  such  con- 
fidence in  him  he  never  even  asked  how  he  was 
going  about  it.  He  knew  that  Donald  would 
do  everything  right.  Dear  me !  what  a  bless- 
ing that  boy  is,  and  always  has  been." 

"  And  always  will  be,"  I  added  remorsefully. 

Vevie  was  sitting  on  the  floor  beside  Calif, 
who,  it  appeared  to  me,  was  more  than  willing 
to  accept  all  the  encomiums  that  she  lavished 
upon  him  for  his  bravery.  She  wiped  away 
some  furtive  tears  when  it  came  to  examining 
his  feet. 

"I'm  not  sorry  that  he  went,"  she  said 
quickly,  in  answer  to  my  pitying  look.  "  He 


MR.   SEATON   IS   CORNERED  315 

ain't  sorry,  either,  but  the  cuts  on  his  feet  do 
hurt  so !" 

"  They  will  soon  heal,  dearest." 

"  I  know  they  will ;  I  was  just  telling 
him  so." 

The  others  were  returning  from  the  barn. 
As  they  neared  the  house  we  could  distinguish 
other  voices  mingling  with  theirs.  Aunt  Matilda 
sprang  up.  "  There's  Rome !"  she  cried.  She 
threw  the  door  open,  and  a  striking  group  filed 
into  the  room  in  response  to  her  "  Come  in." 
I  sat  up,  and  Vevie  and  Calif  retreated  to  my 
side  as  Rome,  the  black-browed  Roy  Jones,  and 
Mr.  Seaton,  followed  by  father,  Donald,  and 
Florence,  entered,  filling  the  little  room  to  over- 
flowing. 

"  You  might  as  well  all  set  down,"  observed 
Rome,  constituting  himself  the  master  of  cere- 
monies. "  We've  got  a  considerable  business  to 
transact,  and  might  as  well  do  it  comfortably." 
His  advice  was  taken  and  he  proceeded,  "  You 
see,  Mr.  and  Miss  Stanley,  and  you,  Mr. 
Arleigh,  for  they  jest  said  you  was  one  of  the 


316  THE   GIRL   EANCHERS 

family — and  proud  you  may  be  of  belonging 
to  it—" 

"  I  am." 

"  That's  right — and  I  s'pose  I'd  ought  to  in- 
clude the  girls,  sence  it  was  them  that — " 

"  Rome,  do  go  on  !"  cried  Florence,  laugh- 
ingly. "  If  you  are  going  to  include  all  of  us 
and  our  ramifications  in  your  preface,  you'll 
never  get  started." 

"  I  suppose  you're  right,  Miss  Florence,"  Rome 
declared,  scratching  his  head  ruefully,  "  for  I 
find  that  I'm  clean  run  aground  now.  I  reckon 
I'd  best  tell  the  thing  that  you  all  want  to 
know  without  tryin'  to  put  in  any  frills,"  which 
he  proceeded  to  do.  The  story,  without  frills, 
was  that  Rome  and  Roy  Jones,  who  volunteered 
to  help  him,  came  up  with  Mr.  Seaton  and  his 
helpers,  late  on  the  same  night  that  they  started 
out  in  pursuit.  The  sheep  had  been  corralled, 
and  the  men  were  guarding  them. 

Threatened  with  exposure  to  the  whole  coun- 
tryside, which  could  forgive  a  stampede,  but  not 
a  theft,  Seatoii  had  reluctantly  consented  to 


MR.  SEATON   IS   CORNERED  317 

accompany  them  back  to  the  San  Coulee  and 
make  terms  with  the  owners  of  the  sheep.  The 
flock  was  left  where  it  had  been  found,  the  two 
men  agreeing  to  remain  on  guard  until  they 
should  again  hear  from  Mr.  Seaton.  "  I  told 
him,"  concluded  Rome,  summing  up,  "that 
sence  he  seemed  to  hanker  after  sheep,  he  could 
prob'ly  get  this  flock  by  payin'  a  fair  price  for 
it ;  sheep's  gone  up." 

"  I  ain't  able  to  pay  no  fancy  prices,"  mut- 
tered Seaton,  the  bitterness  of  defeat  in  his 
angry  voice.  He  had  not  spoken  before,  and  it 
was  hard  to  say  whether,  looking  at  him,  he 
seemed  more  angry  or  ashamed.  "  I  didn't  ask 
you  no  fancy  price,"  he  continued,  appealing  to 
father. 

"  That's  true,"  began  father,  when  the  hither- 
to silent  Jones,  interposed.  "The  reason  he 
sold  so  cheap  to  you  was  that  he  was  'lowing  to 
git  'em  back  fur  nothing.  Mr.  Stanley,  you 
needn't  feel  obligated  to  sell  'em  back  cheap 
to  him,  on  that  account." 

"  You've  changed  yer  tune  some,  about  sheep 


318  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

ranching  since  you  'n'  your  gang  tried  to  stam- 
pede Stanley's  flock  in  the  spring,"  Mr.  Seaton 
reminded  his  quondam  friend,  with  a  scowl. 

"  Not  'bout  sheep  ranchin'  but  'bout — some — 
ranchers,"  replied  Mr.  Jones,  significantly.  "  I 
ain't  denyin'  that  I  think  sheep  is  a  cuss  to  the 
country,  and  I've  done  my  best,  'long  back,  to 
drive  'em  out.  But  I  ain't  no  coyote,  and, 
after  we  all  seen  how  plucky  them  girls  was, 
'n'  how  they  would  keep  the  flock,  or  die  try  in', 
'n'  after  what  they  done  fur  my  wife,  I  gin 
it  out,  that  fur's  I  was  concerned,  the  Stanley 
sheep  ranch  would  be  let  alone.  I  didn't 
'low  that  we  wanted  no  more  sheep  here,  but 
that  these  wouldn't  be  teched.  And  you  knew 
it.  That's  why  you  kep'  a  threatenin'  the  Mex- 
icans, so  'st  they  wouldn't  work  for  Stanley. 
You  wanted  a  chance  to  git  them  yourself.  If 
it  hadn't  a  been  fur  you,  these  young  ladies 
wouldn't  a  been  'bliged  t'  take  the  trouble  't 
fetch  a  lot  of  Indians  over  from  the  Reserva- 
tion to  shear  their  sheep."  There  was,  as  he 
said  this,  a  gleam  in  Mr.  Jones'  solemn  eyes, 


ME.   SEATON    IS   CORNERED  319 

that,  in  any  one  else,  would  seem  to  denote 
amusement.  I  wondered,  and  still  wonder,  if 
lie  had  doubts  of  the  authenticity  of  our 
Indians. 

Mr.  Seaton,  looking  the  picture  of  humilia- 
tion and  baffled  enterprise,  said  miserably,  as  if 
in  extenuation,  "  I've  had  hard  luck  this  sum- 
mer. Two  of  my  horses  died,  and  the  cattle 
business  ain't  provin'  as  profitable  as  the  sheep, 
and  I  always  liked  it  best,  anyway.  I  wouldn't 
a  sold  out  in  the  first  place  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
you,  Roy  Jones,"  who  responded  promptly, 

"  That's  not  true,  and  you  know  it.  Now  you 
want  to  come  to  Mr.  Stanley's  terms  without  no 
more  whining." 

.  And  that  was  what  he  did.  He  gave  father, 
then  and  there,  a  check  on  the  bank  where  his 
funds  were  deposited  for  the  full  value  of  the 
sheep  at  the  market  price.  The  profit  accruing 
to  us  from  the  transaction  was  enough  to  make 
me  open  my  eyes  in  amazement. 

"  I  s'pose  you  won't  interfere  now  with  my 
going  back  and  tending  to  them  sheep,"  Mr. 


320  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

Seaton  remarked,  sullenly,  at  the  close  of  the 
legal  formalities. 

"  No,"  father  said.     "  You  can  go." 

"  Wait,"  interposed  Mr.  Jones  again.  "  See 
here,  Seaton,  I  hain't  never  said  nothing  'bout 
it  before,  but — there's  Johnny ;  whilst  you're 
settling,  settle  that !" 

Seaton,  who  had  got  upon  his  feet,  sat  down 
suddenly  at  these  words ;  his  face  turned  of  a 
chalky  whiteness,  but  he  tried  to  brave  it  out. 

"  I — I  don't  know  what  you  mean !"  he 
gasped. 

"  You  know  it's  a  penitentiary  offense.  You 
got  yourself  'pinted  Johnny's  guardeen  a'  pur- 
pose so  that  you  could  get  a  holt  of  the  money 
that  belonged  to  him  from  the  sale  of  this  place. 
In  other  words,  you  never  paid  for  it.  The 
money  that  Mr.  Stanley  paid  you  for  the  San 
Coulee  ranch,  belongs  to  Johnny.  Now  you 
fork  over,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why." 

Mr.  Seaton  was  vanquished.  He  drew  an- 
other check  in  Johnny's  favor,  and,  in  addition, 
a  writing  which  Mr.  Jones,  who  seemed  rather 


MR.   SEATON   IS    CORNERED  321 

fond  of  legal  phrases,  designated  as  a  "  deed  of 
relinquishment,"  giving  over  to  Rome  Beau- 
mont all  the  powers  that  he,  Mr.  Seaton,  had 
hitherto  possessed  as  "  the  legal  guardian  of  the 
ward  known  as  John  Alton."  I  have  no  means 
of  knowing  whether  the  deed  was,  or  would 
have  been  binding  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  but  it 
served  its  purpose.  Johnny,  when  the  matter 
was  explained  to  him,  gathered  the  idea  that  he 
belonged  henceforth  to  Rome,  and  was  inordi- 
nately happy  in  consequence. 

The  San  Coulee  fruit  ranch  is  an  assured 
success. 

Father's  health  is  fully  restored,  but  he  is 
so  interested  in  the  fruit  ranch  that  he  leaves 
to  Donald  Arleigh  the  management  of  those 
other  affairs  that  his  heart  was  once  so  set 
upon. 

It  took  Rome  a  long  time  to  persuade  Aunt 
Matilda  to  forgive  him  for  supposing,  as  she 
put  it,  that  he  must  be  gold-washed  before  he 
could  venture  to  ask  her  hand  in  marriage, 
but,  as  the  marriage  subsequently  took  place,  I 
21 


322  THE   GIRL   RANCHERS 

suppose  she  forgave  him  in  the  end.  They  are 
the  active  working  principals  of  the  fruit  ranch, 
notwithstanding  that  Rome  has  amassed  a  large 
fortune  from  the  sale  of  his  mine. 

Florence,  with  leisure  and  opportunity  to 
make  use  of  her  talents,  dedicates  them,  not  to 
money-getting,  but  to  the  nobler  work  of 
comforting,  of  uplifting  the  sick,  the  sorrow- 
ful, the  heavy-hearted  of  all  classes. 

Vevie  and  Calif  still  attend  father  as  faith- 
fully as  twin  shadows,  and  I  think  that  one 
reason  why  he  finds  it  so  hard  to  leave  his 
chosen  valley,  for  even  the  briefest  absence,  is 
that  he  so  misses  their  companionship. 

THE  END 


<Best  'Books 

FOR  <BOYS  AND  GIRLS 


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STORIES  FOR  GIRLS 


The  Ferry  cMaidofthe  Chatiahoochee 

*By  (Annie  cM.  'Barnes  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

An  heroic  little  Georgia  girl,  in  her  father's  extremity,  takes 
charge  of  his  ferry,  and  through  many  vicissitudes  and  several 
impending  calamities,  succeeds  in  carrying  out  her  purpose  of 
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cA  cMaid  of  the  First  Century 

*By  Lucy  Foster  cMadison  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

A  little  maid  of  Palestine  goes  in  search  of  her  father,  who, 
for  political  reasons,  has  been  taken  as  a  slave  to  Rome.  She 
is  shipwrecked  in  the  Mediterranean,  but  is  rescued  by  a 
passing  vessel  bound  for  Britain.  Eventually  an  opportunity  is 
afforded  her  for  going  to  Rome,  where,  after  many  trying  and 
exciting  experiences,  she  and  her  father  are  united  and  his 
liberty  is  restored  to  him. 

cMy  Lady  ^Barefoot 

'By  €Mrs.  Evelyn  Raymond  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

A  beautifully  told  story  of  the  trials  of  a  little  backwoods  girl 
who  lives  in  a  secluded  place  with  an  eccentric  uncle,  until  his 
death.  The  privations  she  undergoes  during  his  life-time,  her 
search  for  other  relatives,  her  rather  uncongenial  abode  with 
them,  her  return  to  her  early  home  to  acquire  her  uncle's 
estate,  and  thus  to  enjoy  a  useful  and  happy  life,  form  a  most 
interesting  narrative  of  a  girl  whose  ruggedness  and  simplicity 
of  character  must  appeal  to  the  admiration  of  all  readers. 

2 


'Dorothy  <Day 

'By  Julie  cM.  Lippmann  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

This  is  a  most  interesting  story  of  a  bright  and  spirited  young 
girl  whose  widowed  mother  re-marries.  The  impulsive  girl 
chafes  under  the  new  relationship,  being  unwilling  to  share 
with  another  the  bounteous  love  of  her  mother  which  she  had 
learned  to  claim  wholly  for  her  own.  By  the  exercise  of  great 
tact  and  kindness,  the  obdurate  Dorothy  is  at  last  won  over, 
and  becomes  a  most  estimable  girl. 

SWss  Wildfire 

<By  Julie  cM.  Lippmann  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

The  story  of  a  governess'  attempt  to  win  the  love  and  confi- 
dence of  her  ward,  who,  owing  to  a  lack  of  early  restraint,  is 
inclined  to  be  somewhat  of  a  hoyden.  The  development  of 
the  girl's  character  and  her  eventual  victory  over  her  turbu- 
lent disposition  combine  to  form  a  story  of  unusual  merit  and 
one  which  will  hold  its  reader's  eager  attention  throughout. 
"  A  story  of  girls  for  girls  that  teaches  a  moral  without 
labeling  or  tagging  it  at  the  end."  —  Western  Christian 
Advocate,  Cincinnati,  O. 

cAn  Odd  Little  Lass 

<ByJessteE.  Wright  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

This  is  a  story  of  the  regeneration  of  a  little  street  waif.  She 
begins  life  in  a  lowly  court  of  a  large  city.  Her  adventures 
are  numerous,  and  often  quite  exciting.  After  a  time  she 
is  transplanted  to  the  country,  where  alter  many  thrilling 
experiences  she  eventually  grows  into  a  useful  and  lovable 
young  woman.  The  story  is  pleasantly  told,  and  abounds 
in  interesting  incident. 

"  The  story  is  an  intensely  interesting  one,  and  abounds  in 
pleasing  and  unique  situations." — Religious  Telescope,  Dayton, 
Ohio. 


Wyoming  Girls 

<By  SMrs.  Carrie  L.  ^Marshall        Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

Two  girls,  thrown  upon  their  own  resources,  are  obliged  to 
"  prove  up  "  their  homestead  claim.  This  would  be  no  very 
serious  matter  were  it  not  for  the  persecution  of  an  unscru- 
pulous neighbor,  who  wishes  to  appropriate  the  property  to 
his  own  use.  The  girls  endure  many  privations,  have  a  num- 
ber of  thrilling  adventures,  but  finally  secure  their  claim  and 
are  generally  well  rewarded  for  their  courage  and  persever- 
ance. 


Girl 


<By  ZMrs.  Carrie  L.  ^Marshall        Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

A  story  of  life  on  a  sheep  ranch  in  Montana.  The  dangers 
and  difficulties  incident  to  such  a  life  are  vividly  pictured,  and 
the  interest  in  the  story  is  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  the  ranch 
is  managed  almost  entirely  by  two  young  girls.  By  their 
energy  and  pluck,  coupled  with  courage,  kindness,  and  un- 
selfishness they  succeed  in  disarming  the  animosity  of  the 
neighboring  cattle  ranchers,  and  their  enterprise  eventually 
results  successfully. 

<An  Every-^Day  Heroine 

*By  cMary  <A.  Venison  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

The  heroine  is  not  an  impossible  character  but  only  a  pure, 
winsome,  earnest  girl,  who  at  fourteen  years  of  age  is  sud- 
denly bereft  of  fortune  and  father  and  becomes  the  chief  sup- 
port of  a  semi-invalid  mother.  While  there  are  many  touching 
scenes,  the  story  as  a  whole  is  bright  and  cheerful  and  moves 
forward  with  a  naturalness  and  ease  that  carries  its  read- 
ers along  and  makes  them  reluctant  to  put  down  the  book 
until  the  end  is  reached. 


Her  College 

<By  §Mrs.  Clarke  Johnson  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugb 

This  is  a  most  interesting  and  healthful  tale  of  a  girl's  life  in  a 
New  England  college.  The  trustful  and  unbounded  love  of 
the  heroine  for  her  mother  and  the  mutual  and  self-sacrificing 
devotion  of  the  mother  to  the  daughter  are  so  beautifully  in- 
terwoven with  the  varied  occurrences  and  exciting  incidents  of 
college  life  as  to  leave  a  most  wholesome  impression  upon 
the  mind  and  heart  of  the  reader. 


STORIES  FOR  <BOYS 


Uncrowning  a  King 

<By  EdwardS.  Ellis,  <A.  £M.  Illustrated  by  J.  Steeple  Vavfs 

A  tale  of  the  Indian  war  waged  by  King  Philip  in  1675.  The 
adventures  of  the  young  hero  during  that  eventful  period,  his 
efforts  in  behalf  of  the  attacked  towns,  his  capture  by  the 
Indians,  and  his  subsequent  release  through  the  efforts  of 
King  Philip  himself,  with  a  vivid  account  of  the  tragic  death 
of  that  renowned  Indian  chieftain,  form  a  most  interesting  and 
instructive  story  of  the  early  days  of  the  colonies. 

The  Young  Gold  Seekers 

<By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  <A.  §M.      Illustrated  by  F.  (A.  Carter 

A  thrilling  account  of  the  experiences  of  two  boys  during  a 
trip  to  the  gold  fields  of  Alaska.  The  hardships  that  they 
endure,  the  disappointments  they  suffer,  the  courage  and 
perseverance  that  they  manifest  in  the  face  of  seemingly 
insurmountable  obstacles,  and  their  eventual  success  in  their 
undertaking,  are  all  most  graphically  portrayed. 
5 


True  to  His  Trust 

<By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  cA.  cM.  Illustrated  by  J.  Steeple  Vavis 

The  hero  of  this  story  will  win  his  way  at  once  into  the  heart 
of  every  one,  and  his  pluck  and  perseverance  will  carry  the 
sympathy  of  every  reader  through  his  many  adventures,  strug- 
gles, and  singular  experiences.  Like  all  of  the  author's  works, 
the  incidents  teach  in  the  most  convincing  manner  that  true 
manliness  and  sturdy  integrity  are  the  only  principles  through 
which  happiness  and  success  in  life  are  possible. 

Comrades  True 

Wy  Edward  S.  Ellis,  cA.  €M.  Illustrated 

In  following  the  career  of  two  friends  from  youth  to  manhood, 
the  author  weaves  a  narrative  of  intense  interest.  This 
story  is  more  realistic  than  is  usual,  as  the  two  heroes  pass 
through  the  calamitous  forest  fires  in  Northern  Minnesota  and 
barely  escape  with  their  lives.  They  have  other  thrilling  ad- 
ventures and  experiences  in  which  the  characteristics  of  each 
are  finely  portrayed. 

"  Among  juveniles  there  is  not  one  of  greater  interest,  or 
more  wholesome  influence  than  '  Comrades  True.'  " — Sentinel, 
Milwaukee,  Wis. 

(Among  the  Esquimaux 

<By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  cA.  cM.  Illustrated 

The  scenes  of  this  story  are  laid  in  the  Arctic  region,  the  cen- 
tral characters  being  two  sturdy  boys  whose  adventurous  spirit 
often  leads  them  into  dangerous  positions.  They  visit  Green- 
land ;  go  on  a  hunting  expedition,  have  a  number  of  stirring 
adventures,  but  ultimately  reach  home  safe  and  sound. 

"  A  capital  and  instructive  book  for  boys." — Post,  Boston, 
Mass. 

6 


The  Campers  Out 

*By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  <A.  cM.  Illustrated 

Many  of  the  scenes  are  so  vividly  described  that  the  reader 
can,  in  his  imagination,  enjoy  the  excitement  of  the  chase  and 
all  the  pleasures  of  a  good  camping  tour.  In  addition  to  the 
vivid  descriptions  of  many  exciting  adventures,  this  story 
teaches  a  lesson  in  morals  that  cannot  fail  to  prove  helpful  to 
every  reader. 

"  Well  planned  and  well  written.     Full  of  adventure  of  just  the 
right  sort."  —  Mid-  Continent,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

<At  the  Siege  of  Quebec 

ames  Otis  Illustrated  by  F.  cA.  Carter 


Two  boys  living  on  the  Kennebec  River  join  Benedict  Ar- 
nold's expedition  as  it  passes  their  dwelling  en  route  for  the 
Canadian  border.  They,  with  their  command,  are  taken  pris- 
oners before  Quebec.  The  description  of  the  terrible  march 
through  the  wilderness,  the  incidents  of  the  siege,  and  the  dis- 
astrous assault,  which  cost  the  gallant  General  Montgomery 
his  life,  are  in  the  highest  degree  thrilling,  while  at  the  same 
time  true  in  every  particular. 

(Andy's  Ward 

<By  James  Otis  Illustrated 

A  fascinating  narrative  of  the  life  and  experiences  of  "  Museum 
Marvels."  They  dwell  in  a  house  owned  by  a  sword-swal- 
lower,  whose  wife,  the  "  Original  Circassian,"  is  entrusted  with 
its  management.  The  rest  of  the  household  includes  a  dwarf, 
nick-named  the  "  Major,"  a  fat  lady,  a  giant,  and  a  snake- 
charmer.  The  private  life  of  the  marvels  forms  a  story  full  of 
incident,  and  one  that  possesses  that  peculiar  simplicity  of 
style  which  has  won  for  this  author  such  a  host  of  readers. 
7 


Chasing  a   Yacht 

ames  Otis  Illustrated 


A  semi-nautical  tale  of  adventure  about  boys,  written  for  boys, 
and  will  certainly  be  appreciated  by  boys  wherever  they  may 
be  found.  The  story  of  how  the  heroes,  two  bright,  manly 
fellows,  built  a  steam  yacht,  how  she  was  stolen  from  them, 
and  how  they  eventually  regained  possession  of  her,  is  full  of 
life  and  is  replete  with  exciting  and  interesting  incident. 

"  Boys  who  do  not  read  this  volume  with  real  pleasure  must 
be  hard  to  suit."  —  Journal,  Minneapolis,  Minn. 

The  ^Braganza  diamond 

%  James  Otis  Illustrated 

A.  volume  that  will  hold  its  readers  spell-bound  as  they  follow 
the  two  boy  characters  and  the  bright,  courageous  girl  in 
their  search  for  the  famous  diamond.  Much  useful  information 
is  incidentally  conveyed  and  many  things  with  which  few 
persons  are  familiar  are  explained. 

"  It  will  rivet  the  attention  of  young  readers  as  much  as  Rob- 
inson Crusoe."  —  Call,  San  Francisco,  Cal. 

On  Wood  Cote  Island 

<By  Elbridge  S.  brooks       Illustrated  by  Frederic  J.  'Boston 

A.  trio  of  bright  New  England  children  are  given  an  island 
on  which  to  spend  their  summer  vacation.  Here  they  es- 
tablish a  little  colony,  the  management  of  which  gives  them 
a  large  amount  of  amusement  and  at  times  causes  some 
seemingly  serious  difficulties.  In  the  solution  of  their  per- 
plexing problems  the  young  people  receive  much  encourage- 
ment and  counsel  from  the  poet  Longfellow,  whose  delightful 
acquaintance  they  form  in  a  very  unexpected  and  amusing 
manner. 


Under  the  ^Tamaracks 

<By  Elbridge  S.  'Brooks  Illustrated 

An  interesting  and  healthful  story  for  boys  and  girls,  repre- 
senting a  summer's  outing  of  young  people  among  the 
Thousand  Islands.  It  is  timed  to  include  the  visit  of  General 
Grant  at  Alexandria  Bay,  and  several  interesting  conversa- 
tions between  one  of  the  boys  and  the  hero  of  the  Rebellion 
shed  pleasing  side  lights  upon  the  great  General's  character. 

"  General  Grant's  talks  with  the  heroes  will  captivate  the 
heart  of  every  boy." —  Teachers'  World,  New  York. 

In  the  T)ays  of  Washington 

'By  William  cMurray  Graydon    Illustrated  by  J.  C.  Claghorn 

The  story  opens  in  Philadelphia  just  prior  to  its  evacuation  by 
the  British  in  1778.  Nathan  Stanbury,  a  bright  lad  of  seven- 
teen, joins  the  Continental  Army  which  is  then  suffering  the 
hardships  of  the  winter  at  Valley  Forge.  A  short  time  later 
the  Battle  of  Monmouth  is  fought,  and  in  this  the  young  hero 
figures  quite  prominently,  as  he  does  afterward  at  the  Massa- 
cre of  Wyoming. 

The  Lost  Gold  cMine 

*By  Frank  H.  Converse  Illustrated 

At  the  opening  of  this  story,  the  hero,  by  a  singular  circum- 
stance, finds  himself  in  possession  of  certain  papers  relating  to 
a  gold  mine  in  the  far  West,  and  he  and  his  chum  conclude  to 
make  a  search  for  it.  Their  untiring  efforts  are  eventually 
crowned  with  success,  but  not  until  the  party '  has  suffered 
many  privations  and  escaped  numerous  impending  dangers 
such  as  characterized  the  early  days  of  the  gold  fever. 
9 


cMoonshiner*  s  Son 

*By  Will  cAllen  Ttromgoole          Illustrated  by  F.  (A.  Carter 

The  scene  of  this  dramatic  story  is  laid  in  the  mountains  o/ 
Tennessee  amid  the  haunts  of  the  illicit  distillers.  The  hero 
is  made  to  suffer  many  hardships  as  a  result  of  his  father's  un- 
lawful business,  but  after  the  latter's  tragic  death,  the  boy  is  af- 
forded an  opportunity  of  going  to  a  large  city,  where  his 
sterling  merit  soon  brings  him  into  prominence.  The  story  is 
full  of  the  most  thrilling  incidents,  and  the  tone  is  wholesome 
and  elevating. 

The  cMoncasket  cMystery 

*By  Sidney  €Marlo*o>  Illustrated 

Wise  indeed  is  that  teacher  or  parent  who  provides  his  child- 
ren with  such  healthful  and  entertaining  reading  as  this  book 
will  prove  to  be.  It  is  a  pleasing  story,  full  of  base-ball  and 
fishing  experiences,  with  just  sufficient  "  mystery  "  to  add  zest 
to  the  tale.  The  principal  character  is  not  called  upon 
to  perform  any  impossible  feats,  but  he  exemplifies  his  char- 
acter in  the  pursuits  of  daily  life  and  always  proves  faithful  to 
the  confidence  reposed  in  him. 

Harry  <Ambler 

*By  Sidney  cMartow  Illustrated 

A  charming  story  of  a  bright  boy,  that  is  full  of  exciting 
incidents  and  is  told  in  a  pleasing  style.  It  is  interesting 
without  being  sensational,  and  incidentally  shows  that  courage 
and  honesty  are  the  sure  roads  to  success.  The  characteristics 
displayed  by  the  hero  can  be  emulated  with  profit  by  boys 
generally.  The  book  points  out  a  moral  without  making  that 
the  "  reason  of  being  "  of  the  story. 
10 


The   Young  'Boatman 

By  Horatio  cAlger,  Jr.  Illustrated 

A  story  of  a  manly  boy,  whose  fine  character  is  brought  in  con- 
tact with  a  coarse  and  cruel  one,  in  the  person  of  his  stepfather. 
Perseverance  and  honesty  will  always  win,  as  is  shown  in  this 
charming  .story.  A  young  boy,  by  pluck  and  energy,  over- 
comes difficulties  that  would  have  baffled  many  an  older  head. 
"  Grit,  the  hero,  is  worthy  of  his  name,  and  every  boy  will 
sympathize  with  him  in  his  troubles  and  rejoice  with  him  in 
his  triumphs." — Times,  Philadelphia. 

The  Odds  cAgainst  Him 

*By  Horatio  cAlger,  Jr.  Illustrated 

The  book  is  full  of  bright,  cheerful,  and  amusing  incident, 
showing  that  a  boy  of  good,  honest,  sterling,  industrious  habits 
can  always  secure  friends  and  succeed  in  earning  an  honest 
living,  and  in  spite  of  formidable  obstacles  can  obtain  a  posi- 
tion of  comfort  and  respectability.  The  hero  is  full  of  resolu- 
tion and  pluck,  and  by  diligence  and  faithfulness  he  rapidly 
advances,  in  spite  of  the  "  odds,"  to  success. 


CLASSIC  STORIES 


The  Story  of  the  Iliad 

<By  Th-.  Ed-ward  ^Brooks,  <A.  £M.  Illustrated 

Homer's  Iliad  is  said  to  be  the  world's  greatest  poem. 
The  chief  episodes  of  the  tale  of  Helen  and  the  dire  results  of 
her  misdoing  are  here  told  in  words  admirable  for  their  sim- 
plicity and  directness.  The  wonderful  inventive  skill,  the 
beauty  and  variety  of  imagery,  and  the  simplicity  of  style  dis- 
played by  Homer  are  graphically  exhibited  in  this  book. 

The  Story  of  the   Odyssey 

<By  2*.  Edward  brooks,  cA.  €M.  Illustrated 

The  wanderings  of  Ulysses  are  here  told  in  a  charmingly 
simple  and  concise  style,  making  a  book  full  of  interest,  and 
the  boy  or  girl  who  begins  the  story  will  read  it  through.  It 
is  not  merely  attractive  and  absorbing,  it  is  as  well  one  of  the 
most  instructive  books  that  literature  affords.  In  fact,  he  who 
has  become  familiar  with  the  adventures  here  narrated  has  an 
outlook  upon  the  art,  poetry,  and  romance  of  the  world. 

The  Story  of  the  cAeneid 

<By  T>r.  Ed<ward  ^Brooks,  <A.  cM.  Illustrated 

Virgil's  classic  poem  was  probably  never  before  rendered  into 
such  choice  but  simple  English  as  is  found  in  this  volume. 
The  story  of  the  erratic  journeyings  of  ^neas  and  his  com- 
panions, while  somewhat  abbreviated,  is  connected,  and 
flows  smoothly  along  with  much  of  the  spirit  that  character- 
izes the  original.  No  boy  or  girl  who  reads  this  story  will  fail 
to  have  an  increased  admiration  for  classical  literature. 


